


Past and Future Secret

by whispersofdelirium



Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Wingfic, time jumps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-16 17:49:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 30,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11257857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whispersofdelirium/pseuds/whispersofdelirium
Summary: Buck's alive. And Steve's going to bring him home.Days blur together as he sets out to find the man that holds the other half of his soul. Memories of the past haunt him whenever he closes his eyes - memories of when they lived together in a shitty one bedroom apartment, back before the serum that fixed Steve's wings and his heart, before Bucky was ripped from Steve's side. It wasn't going to the be the same, he knew that, but he still had to bring Buck home.Funny thing though, Buck always did have a way of turning things ass over kettle without really trying.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [Amazing Art By Aideryn](aideryn.tumblr.com)   
>  [Story by Me!](whispersofdelirum.tumblr.com)

A cold wind blew through the streets of Brooklyn, causing any sane person with a home to hurry inside. Too bad not everyone was that well off. Steve had to go out, even with his cough back, he had to go to class. It was only two blocks away. They were lucky like that and there was no way that Steve would go wasting the money Bucky spent on those classes just because of a little cold. Besides he was almost done with this term. Just a few more weeks then he'd have the holidays off, maybe more if they couldn't find the money to pay for the next term. It hurt to think about since next semester would be his last. He was so close to getting a degree and then he could help out. Then he could do something.

Nothing to do about it now, he thought as he wrapped his pure white wings closer to his body. They shone brightly in the drab dreary Brooklyn streets. A few dark winged men and women hurried from one place to the next on foot. It was way too windy to fly safely. A few glanced at him, eyes flicking to the color of his wings before hurrying off with a dirty look on their faces. White wings weren't too common, which was a good thing really. Being born with his type of wings was a curse. Being born with wings at all was kind of a lottery in and of itself. No one knew why or how it happened but some people developed wings. Doctors nowadays could figure out which baby would be a winged because of the lumps under the skin on the back. That’s all they knew for sure. Steve had read somewhere that wingeds were 10% of the population, one in every ten. This was an average. America, east coast specifically had more than say Africa but really, they were found all over.

Dark wings were the norm. They were usually given better jobs, ended up having better lives, all because of some old wives tale. Better than their light-winged counterparts, like Steve. Light wings were rare, one in every ten of the winged population. A fraction of the world. Pure white wings, they were one in fifty. Light wings were considered weaker and white wings, well, they didn't often survive to adulthood. At least that's what Steve was told often since he had turned twenty-one this last summer. In the eyes of the government, he was an adult. In his eyes, he only felt like an adult when his ma passed two years ago.

Steve hugged his own wings tighter to his small body, trying to fight off the worst of the cold winds. The left one stretched mostly around while the other, his stunted wing, barely made it around his shoulders. Even if they were the same size Steve doubted he would be able to fly like the others. They were still small, probably even too small for his own tiny stature. The wind picked up again, blowing through his feathers and straight to his chest. He could feel his cough getting worse. Each lung felt heavier than they should be as if someone replaced them with lead pipes when he wasn't looking.

A crackling cough ripped out of him just as someone started laughing up ahead. It was a cruel laugh causing Steve to instinctively draw back, wanting to run, wanting to hide but he didn’t hide, he didn’t run. He stood up straight, willing the cough to settle as he passed three men, all with dark brown wings. They were sucking on cigarettes, mocking the people who came into view. Most were out of earshot. The few that weren’t waved them off. Steve's blood boiled as one of the men hollered to a woman with two kids as they hurried up their stoop, running to get out of the cold and to get away from men like them. Men that yelled at women about how good they'd look naked.

"Why don't you damn well leave her alone? No dame needs to be talked to like that and be respectful. She's with her children." Steve stood in front of the man grinding his teeth and glaring up at the man that had almost a foot of height on him. Probably close to a hundred pounds more of muscle too, by the look of him. He looked like a dock worker. Steve wondered briefly if Bucky knew this loser. The thought of Bucky almost had Steve backing down. Bucky would kill him if he got into another fight,  but this bully had to be taught a lesson. That was Steve's last thought before the men laughed and descended.

They dragged him into an alley and beat him bloody, ripped feathers out of his gimp wing, calling them a souvenir. They even ripped the collar of his shirt, pulling so hard a sharp pain snapped through the back of Steve's skull. Steve could feel blood dripping from various spots by the time the men got bored and left, hurling more slurs and insults his way as they did. A cold wind blew into the alley, getting trapped against the back wall and causing a tunneling effect. The air felt colder than before as the wind kept going. Steve wasn't sure how much time had passed with him laying on the ground but he knew that when he finally pulled himself to his feet the weak December sun was starting to set. Bucky was going to kill him. He should have been home hours ago. Bucky knew his class ended a little bit before noon and it was only a thirty-minute walk home. Judging by the dying light it was nearing three.

Steve had to use the wall for support as he grabbed his small canvas bag, thanking whoever was listening that it was still intact. They had just thrown it to the side and continued beating him. A small smile tugged on his lips as he remembered the few, but good,  punches he landed on the jerks. Looking down he could see his bloodied knuckles. Blood from some place on his face dripped down and landed on the ground as he started moving out. And they were supposed to go out dancing tonight and everything. Bucky had even promised to find him a date as well. Not that he really wanted one on the best of days.

No point trailing behind a dame that wanted nothing to do with a five foot five weakling. Add on top of that a weakling with white wings, one gimpy and useless. Just like the rest of him, he thought as he wiped the blood from his chin, only to smear it against the back of his hand. He swore softly before climbing the stairs to the apartment he shared with Bucky. Technically, it was a one bedroom but their landlady was kind enough to help them fashion a divider with heavy canvas when they first moved in. She had first commented on them moving into a one bedroom together, no woman in sight but it was soon apparent with Steve's health issues that they wouldn't be able to make enough for a two bedroom. Steve was convinced she thought Bucky some kind of saint, taking care of his crippled and unfortunate childhood friend. Too good of a person to walk away and start a life of his own. Some days Steve was convinced of that as well.

"Steve, that better damn well be you!" Bucky called out from behind the small wall that separated the kitchen from the living room. If only Steve could just reply normally and then hightail it to his side of the room claiming exhaustion maybe he could stave off this for another day. Before Steve could get his voice to work Bucky came around the divider. His jaw hardened upon seeing Steve just standing in the doorway dripping blood on their warped wood floor. "Who did this to you?" The question came out more of a growl than anything. Bucky's dark wings seized up behind him. It looked like he was set to attack, hunt down the people responsible for this.

"I- I didn't see," Steve lied. He did see. He saw each one, memorized their faces and could accurately sketch them if need be but Steve didn't want to do that. Steve didn't want to give Bucky the information because his best friend would go out looking for the assholes who did this. "They jumped me."

"Randomly, huh?" It wasn't uncommon for the light-winged to get attacked. The damned old wives tail spun fear still in this modern day and age but judging from Bucky's tone he didn't buy a word of it. Steve tried to stand tall with his head held high.

"Yeah, Buck. Some people just like to cause problems." At least that wasn't a lie. Bucky let out a deep sigh, one that came from the very center of his bones, before his posture slumped. It didn't relax. The tension in his shoulders was still there but he was no longer ready to run out and get hurt. Bucky's wings slowly folded back behind him, a small down feather fluttered out and through the dying light coming from the only good window in the kitchen.

"Come here." The words were tired with a harsh, angry edge to them. Steve hung his head and followed his friend into the bedroom. The divider was hung on one side of the door since the room wasn't evenly divided. Bucky had argued about that for weeks but Steve was small and didn't need as much room. Besides, what if Buck wanted to bring a dame home? Steve could always just sleep on the couch. He'd need the space even if the idea burned hot and angry in the pit of Steve' stomach no matter how much he tried to ignore it. Not that it ever happened since Buck never brought anyone home. If need be he just never came home which burned just the same.

Bucky's side also had the only window, facing west and catching the light of the mostly setting sun. They probably had another thirty minutes before they'd have to light a few candles since they hadn't the money for electricity this month. Between the cold and Steve's class, he hadn't been able to find work to help out. His guilt got worse as Bucky pulled out the small, meager first aid kit he kept under his bed. It was thin because of all the times Steve came home bloodied after a fight and supplies were expensive. Even from the doorway, Steve could see they were almost out. Buck sighed deeply as he realized this as well. He motioned to Steve then towards his bed before going about taking everything out of the tin. Each item was placed on the bed in a certain order. Buck had a routine.

"I'm fine." Nothing. "You don’t need to waste those last bits on me." Still nothing. "Buck, you don't want me getting blood on your sheets, do ya'?" This time Bucky rose to his feet. The rigid set of his shoulders was back but he wasn't looking at Steve, just glaring at the ground. Steve held his breath as Buck came closer and gripped his arm, not enough to hurt but with a firm enough grip before dragging him to the bed. With a gentle push, Steve found himself sitting on the sheets awkwardly. He could feel rogue blood drip down to the sheets behind him. His wings were still bleeding sluggishly. Everything else at least had stopped but it had left him a bit woozy.

"Hold out your hand." Steve obeyed as Bucky took the last of the gauze, unwinding it across Steve's lap he set about his task. Gently and with great care, Bucky was able to bandage some of the major wounds on Steve's back. He put ointment on the scrapes along Steve's knuckles, the bad scrape on his chest, and the one that marred his cheek. Bucky avoided the quickly forming black eye. It looked horrible but luckily it wasn't swelling shut just yet. His wings should be wrapped as well, but he only had a few more strips of gauze left.

"This is bad, Steve." His voice was small and watery. Steve hung his head as Buck finished up. This was bad. Usually, the guys would just kick his ass and be in their way but these three, they took pleasure in keeping him down while hurling slur after slur at him. They even took pleasure ripping the feathers from his wings. It was bound to happen. Steve picked fights all the time, over good reason mind you, but sooner or later he was bound to face more than just bullies. He could tell Bucky knew it too.  

"Hold on." Buck got up and went to the small bureau in the corner of the room. Steve tried to follow, to see what he was about to do, but the pain in his shoulders and his neck prevented it. Instead, he waited. He only had to wait a moment before the sound of tearing filled the room.

"Buck stop!"

"Sit your damn ass back down." His glare was one to wither crops and caused Steve to relent, just enough to make him sit down. Bucky went back to one knee, wings slightly flexing behind him. "I need to wrap your ankle. It might be broken." He didn't think so,  but to be honest, the walk home was a blur and now the ankle was twice it's normal size. Wrapping the ankle hurt, causing Steve to wince and attempt to pull back. Bucky kept a strong grip on it, whispering apologies as he tightly wrapped the swollen joint. If they were lucky nothing was broken, but when were they ever lucky?

"But that was your last good shirt," Steve said softly, already trying to think of a way to get Buck a new one. He had a few sketches he could sell. The local college kids, the rich ones on the other side of the borough often bought some for their small dorms.

Once he was finished and his eyes landed on the bloodied wing, Bucky couldn't mask the pained sound that got stuck in the back of his throat. Thankfully, the wound wasn't on the small wing. There's no telling if the feathers would have ever grown back. The blood had stopped, congealed into an ugly mess, darkening the remaining features a mix of deep crimson and rust reds. Steve, with a wince, was able to extend the bloody wing, for no other reason than to show Buck that it wasn't that bad. _See, I'm okay_. But it didn't distract. The haunted look darkened Bucky's eyes as he extended a hand out towards the wound, hesitant over what to do. A small sigh fell from his friend's lips as Bucky pulled back to grab some gauze.

The flinch was small and Buck froze for just a second with a hand raised above his chest, fingers wet with ointment, gauze hanging loosely in his other hand. Steve's breath stilled a moment, too afraid to even ask. If it wasn't for the fact that Steve couldn't pull his eyes from Buck he would have never noticed it. This whole time Buck hadn't looked Steve in the eyes once so Steve watched him.

"What?" Steve asked, almost raising his hand to grab Buckys. He stopped himself, instead he put his balled up fists onto each knee. It was one thing to touch while his friend was good enough to patch him up. Except Bucky surprised him and reached out with his clean hand to touch the hollow of Steve's neck. Despite the pain that was still throbbing through his body, Steve was able to pinpoint Bucky's gentle fingertips tracing where his- Where is crucifix should be. He jolted back and looked down. "No..."

Steve looked back up as Bucky finally meet his eyes sadly, holding his own holy symbol, a simple Star of David. Both pendants were handed down to them by family members years ago. Bucky's was from his favorite uncle who had died when they were ten. Steve's was from his father, a man that had a gut feeling he was never coming back. A man who left his crucifix behind for a wife he loved, already willing it towards their unborn son.

“Steve..." Bucky paused as he dropped his hand to wrap his long fingers around the bony edge of his friend's hip. "Tell me who did this." A hard edge entered Bucky's voice, almost promising that he would get the necklace back. If anyone could make the impossible happen it'd be Bucky Barnes. For a moment a spark of hope flared up in Steve's battered ribs before quickly disappearing.

They sat there another moment. Bucky was frozen in anger. Steve, on the other hand, was practically vibrating with nerves. His lungs ached as he tried to suck in more and more oxygen before he gave up trying and just screamed. He screamed to the heavens in fear. He screamed in frustration. He screamed in anger and in grief.

White-winged don't often live to adulthood.

 

 

A sudden beep echoed in Steve's skull and his eyes snapped open. Perfectly white walls, an uncomfortable bed under him and wires- so many wires. Some around him while others were attached to him. The feeling started to return to his body, stretching the full length of the bed. A short, quiet repetitive beep sounded to his left. On his right was a man reading a magazine. Sam.

It was a dream. A dream of a memory. A memory of years past back in a tiny run-down apartment in Brooklyn. Back before the serum filled out his frame, added height to his stature and fixed his wings. Before the serum sharpened his scenes and quickened his healing. Back then when he got scraped up he needed Bucky and that particular time was one of the worst. It had taken months for the feathers to come back in properly. His ankle thankfully hadn't been broken but Bucky had to steal crutches for him the next day just so Steve could go to class.

His still white wings were spread out on the bed around him. They were both bandaged up but clean of blood. A sigh left his lips as he remembered. The man with the metal arm, Bucky. His Bucky. No recognition behind those blue eyes. The fight above the Potomac. He accomplished his mission. Innocent people were saved. Then he fell. He fell into the river. How was he not dead? He remembered being conscious enough taking one last breath and instead of tasting air he swallowed down water. Sam still hadn't noticed he was awake. That was fine with him. Steve definitely needed a minute. Bucky was alive. Still a prisoner of war but alive. He promised once to tear Hydra down brick by brick to avenge his friend. Now he swore to burn it to hell to get his friend back for good.

A soft shuffling sound drew his attention to Sam and Steve couldn't help but smile ever so slightly. At least he wasn't alone in all of this. No longer was it just Bucky and him against the world as corny as that sounded but it felt good to have others in his corner.

"On your left," Steve muttered softly with a small chuckle. He could hear Sam say something back but it was lost as his eyes dropped closed and darkness took him once more.

 

Sun filtered through a dirty window, through a tattered curtain and directly into Steve's eyes. He groaned miserably before trying to turn away and search for the darkness once again. It took a moment as he shifted his body to notice the stiffness in his joints and in his bones. Another moment before a sharp pain spiked from the bottom of one of his wings just as his ankle started to throb. Memories of the day before flooded Steve's mind and a small whimper fell out of him. Immediately, the bed before him dipped as a soft, sad sigh reached his good ear. The beating had knocked out hearing in the other one for the time being, hopefully. God above, he wished it was only temporary. It was bad enough that it always sounded like everyone was underwater.

Steve tried to roll over, onto his back. Arms heavy with pain and exhaustion tried to rise to check what damage had been done. He wasn't expecting miracles and unlike the other Winged, it wasn't like he had been able to fly, to begin with. Maybe some damage-

His thoughts cut off as a gentle hand stopped him. It held tight to his wrist before lowering his arm back down. An arm Steve belatedly realized was shaking badly. He was slowly guided to lay on his back as his wings were pushed out to either side. Without opening his eyes Steve knew who was here, who was taking care of him. The only two people that ever looked after a loser White-Winged like him was his mother and Bucky. Steve's mom has been gone these last three years. He stopped thinking it was her a while back.

The pillows were moved to accommodate the wing joints before Bucky pulled back. The dip on the mattress eased slightly as Steve finally was able to pry open his eyes. The light from the dirty window cast the room in a soft illumination. Steve's eyes drifted to the window as he realized he was in Bucky's bed. He must have really looked bad last night if Bucky had let him sleep here.

"Steve?" Bucky asked softly as he held moved a warm wet cloth to Steve's chest. "Hey. You finally decided to wake up, huh? Lazy." Buck clicked his tongue and joked but his voice sounded off. Steve furrowed his brow and tried to make sense of the sluggish pace of his thoughts.

"It's-" he paused, licking his very dry lips before trying again. "It's still early morning, Buck. Didn't sleep that long," Steve muttered the last part before a coughing fit overtook his small frame. Bucky instantly moved forward and pulled his friend up to a sitting position.

It seemed like an eternity at past for both of them by the time Steve's weak lungs had settled down and the smaller man could breathe a bit easier again. A wheeze still echoed at the end of each inhale and exhale but he was breathing. That's what mattered. Steve leaned his head forward, all his energy used up so early in the day. Bucky's shifted so Steve could read against his shoulder.

"Stevie, damn it. You're still burning up." Steve just shrugged. What else was new? He could feel the fever in every joint of his body. Weakly, he shrugged and immediately regretted it when he felt a sharp tug on the back of his shoulder, right next to his big wing. Slowly he pulled away from his friend and tried to turn to see. "It's splintered. Don't hurt yourself." Bucky stopped him with a hand on each shoulder.

"Jerk." His throat felt like someone had reached in and taken a scalpel to it. "Water?"

"Right here." A glass of clear cold water was pressed into his hand and then guided to his mouth.

"Sip it slowly. You've been without liquids for a while. Any longer than I- You're lucky you woke up when you did, Stevie. You almost made me run your runt ass to the hospital." Steve did what Bucky asked and sipped it slowly while rolling his eyes. It hurt but was worth it in response to Bucky.

"I was out for what? Just a little over twelve hours?" Steve paused and took another sip before continuing. "You know as well as I do that ain't no cause for concern."

Bucky shook his head and took back the empty water glass. He snaked an arm around Steve's waist while propping up the few, beaten down pillows at the head of the bed. There was no way Steve could stay upright by himself and Bucky had some soup he needed to force feed his friend. Steve, on the other hand, was not complaining. It had been a while since Bucky had deemed Steve in need of physical contact. Steve had been so healthy lately. It had been going on three months since his last sickness. One of the longest streaks of health in his own life. Guess he was past due then. The beaten had probably been what did him in. The throbbing of all his injuries kept making themselves known but not as loudly and as painfully as he would have expected.

Steve pulled away completely from Bucky, allowing his friend to help him push back against the headboard. The blanket came with him, pulled tight around Steve's tiny chest that was still breathing harsher than normal. His head felt heavy and he wanted to sleep again but he knew he had already slept too much. His classes were in a few hours and even injured he still had to go, no matter what Bucky said. A shadow under Buck's right eye and against the top of his left cheek paused Steve's thoughts. They weren't shadowing. The sun was shining directly on his face now. It looked like a smudge of dirty except- No, not dirt, black with purple and a sickly yellow around the edges. Bruises, fading bruises he hadn't had last night.

"How long was I out?" Steve asked forcing each word to sound as normal as possible

"Total?" Buck paused and looked at his friend. "Straight you've been out four days. You were attacked eight days ago. First few you slipped in and out."

"Eight days ago," Steve repeated back. He had lost time before with sickness but usually, he could feel it.

"I was able to get some soup and water in you the for most of it but four days ago you fell asleep and I've been here the whole time so I would have known if you'd have woken up. You didn't."

"What about your job?" A question that caused Bucky to laugh mirthlessly.

"I informed them. Made a deal with the foreman."

"What deal?"

"Don't worry about it," Bucky said firmly as he stood up from the bed and walked towards the door. Steve wanted to fight, argue and get the answer of what that deal was. What did he promise away this time for Steve's safety? "Also, almost forgot." Buck dug into his pants pocket before pulling out a long gold chain with something at the end. "Found some dark winged that wanted you to have this back."

"Is that-"

"Yeah, the clasp is broken. I can fix it while you eat." With that, he was gone and Steve was finally able to relax. Each muscle let out tension he hadn't even realized he was holding in. With the sounds of Bucky in the kitchen, Steve was able to finally doze off. His head fell to his chest and within moments he succumbed to the darkness.   

 

 

"Steve, you in there?" There was a light tapping at his door which caused Steve to pause mid-action, shirt half way down his still recovering torso. His surroundings snapped back into focus as his mind left the past. The crucifix, Steve had completely forgotten about that. He never did question how Bucky got that necklace back. It was solid gold. The only thing of worth Steve owned at the time or for years since. He had been most surprised that the thugs hadn't hawked it as soon as they could but it was the same necklace. Steve knew immediately. There were teeth marks on one side and on the back was engraved his great uncle's symbol, the man who cast the pendent all those years ago back in Ireland. Now that crucifix was locked up tight in a safe place. He felt no need to wear it anymore, not after the life he'd lived.

"Just a minute, Nat," Steve finally answered a minute later, slow and still bone tired. A heavy sigh escaped his lips and expanded battered ribs as he adjusted his shirt and grabbed his bag. Two days. That's how long they had forced him to stay in this hospital room. It had taken him only a few days to heal the many broken bones. Most of that time he was unconscious. Now, he was just sore and wanted to sleep in his own bed. As he made his was way to the door, rubbing the twitching muscle of his shoulder, he realized that he didn't really have a bed to go back to. That apartment with his S.H.I.E.L.D. furnished items was destroyed. Sam had mentioned now long after he woke up that Steve could stay with him for a while, which was sweet, but he needed to start looking for Bucky. He needed to find his friend who was out there somehow, who had survived a one hundred, two hundred foot drop. Who was living proof of miracles since seventy years later he was alive and even though he looked slightly different, with the metal arm and the long hair. It was still his Bucky. Still, the man that produced miracles like others pulled a coin from their pockets.

Maybe a trip to his deposit box was in order. To gather his crucifix, a symbol he had long since lost the meaning of, and the Star of David that once hung around Bucky's neck. Neither meant the same to him anymore. Each stood for something different now. One for miracles and the other for humanity, Buckys specifically. But this was all beside the point. Steve needed to find Bucky and fast before Hydra captured him again and he went missing for another seventy-five years. It sure would be the fastest way to take down Captain America. He barely survived losing his best friend the first time. At least then he had Peggy.

Standing as proudly as he was able Steve left the room with his bag hanging nearly limply at his side. Nat stood next to the door, leaning against the wall with one foot up and pressed behind her. She was scrolling through her phone. A bunch of weird symbols he had never seen before. Wasn't Russian, he knew that much. Didn't really look human but she was scrolling and possibly reading it with a small smile on her face.

"Want a lift to the museum?" she asked without even looking up from her phone. He turned to her with confusion written on his face. Why would he go to a museum? A crowded place like that was the last place he wanted to go. "Thought you might want to go home and rest." The small smile turned into a full blown grin.

"Hilarious," Steve responded dryly. She just shrugged before turning her phone off and sliding it into her back pocket.

"Fury’s 'funeral' is tomorrow." She paused looking him up and down before starting to walk down the hallway. He shuffled awkwardly to keep up with her, forgetting for a moment that his stride was very much longer than hers. "Can you wait until after before starting your quest?"

His fingers tightened around his bag strap, feeling the braided nylon cord cutting into the palm of his hand and each individual joint of each individual finger. Could he wait that long? Possibly? Should he? Maybe. He bit back a sigh as he realized that even though the mission was clear, his path was murky. They stayed silent as they cleared the hall and made their way into the loading area then out into the parking lot. The late summer heat had settled in while Steve was asleep those few days. Now everything felt heavy. Steve could feel the oppressive heat on his skin and on his wings, making them slump slightly. He slung his jacket over his arm as he looked around. One car sat there, the same one Nat was driving when he first met Sam. It was a nice car. Too flashy for him, but still nice No matter how much he liked the car he wasn't quite looking forward to the idea of being inside while Nat drove it again. Speed limits were like suggestions to her.

"Okay, make you a deal," Nat said breaking the silence as she swooped around him, grabbing the bag from his tightened grip. She tugged once and sent him a look. "Promise not to go run off like a moron until after the funeral and I'll gather some information for you... On the Winter Soldier."

"How soon?" he asked, loosening his grip. She tugged again before walking away, bag in hand.  From somewhere she produced a single key before unlocking the doors. She opened the passenger's side and threw the bag in all while making it obvious she was thinking.

"I can get you something by the end of the funeral. It might not be complete but it'll be a state. Good enough?"

"Why?" As far as he knew Nat never went out of her way for anyone, except Clint being the exception. At first, he had thought they were in love but the more he watched them the more he realized they were found family. Buck and he were found family at one point but not like them. They were friends that never wanted to be more.

"You'll need help on this." She walked to the driver's side, opened the door and leaned on the car. Her arms folded on the roof as she laid her head on top. It looked casual but Steve knew even in her heels she still was stretching to reach. "I'm probably the best person to help. If we're being honest. So I'll help. Now get in?"

"That didn't answer the question." Nat sighed before touching her forehead to her arms for just a moment before looking back up.

"I thought we were past this." In truth they were. He trusted her with his life but this time it wasn't his life on the line. It was Buckys. Steve wasn't stupid or blind. He saw what Hydra did to his best friend. All those years using him as the perfect weapon, the right fist of Hydra. He didn't know the details but he didn't have to. If Bucky wasn't already back with them then Hydra was certainly looking for him. The fewer people that had any clue to his whereabouts the better.

He had been thinking about this a lot seeing as how he was stuck in a hospital bed for two days. Sure, he had visitors to keep him company but most of them were just as beat up and without a healing factor to keep them going. Both Nat and Sam fell asleep a few times while here. Sam like the dead while Nat jolted up at the smallest of sounds. Stark had even dropped in to see him. Steve had feigned falling asleep not long into the meeting and thankfully Nat had told him the drugs were causing him to do that. In truth, it was just hard to deal with anyone while lying on his back. He felt like old Steve, like little Stevie but this time when he awoke Bucky wasn't beside him or even cursing in the kitchen trying to get their damn old miserable stove to light.

"Nat..." he sighed out not making a move towards her car.

"Just get in," she responded shortly before swiftly swinging herself down and into the passenger's seat.

 

As Nat drove they sat in silence. Her fingers were wrapped just a little too tightly around the steering wheel and her posture was just a little too rigid. His eyes drifted to the footwell as he tried to mentally argue away his guilt. It was better for everyone if he set out for this by himself. It was also hard for him to purposefully put those he cared about in danger. Only a downright idiot would think this wasn't going to be dangerous. What if his friend was still under Hydra's control when he found him? God, he hoped not but it was a possibility. What if Hydra had already recaptured Bucky? He closed his eyes not wanting to think about that particular what if. He refused to believe Bucky was lost to him again.

As they took another seemingly random right Steve started to really question where they were headed. His completely destroyed apartment was in the other direction and to be honest he never knew were Nat called home base. Was she taking him there? He glanced her way just as she sharply turned left. All her turns were sharp as if she were racing an invisible opponent or running away from something. Steve had never been sure which. After the next turn Steve had to shift in his seat, pushing his wings back around the seat so that they weren't been crushed. He fluttered them ever so slightly when he noticed a single feather was bent awkwardly against the door.

"You kidnapping me?" Steve tried to ask jokingly. A small forced smile pulled at his lips but a sharp side glare from Nat killed it. His wings drooped slightly as he turned to look back out the window.

"We're almost there." Steve watched her a moment before turning back to the road. A few minutes later she turned into a neighborhood. A quiet one with white fences and clean front lawns. The houses were well kept and larger than those in central D.C. Steve noticed Nat's driving had changed. Her speed slowed considerably and her turned were soft and didn't have him clutching at the door like usual. Steve turned his head slightly and watched Nat a moment. He wondered why they were here but a moment later movement to his right drew his attention back to the window.

On the front lawn of a two-story gray painted house with a nice neat front porch were two children. One had wings and judging by their dark coloring and bone structure the children were related. Siblings were his guess. The oldest, a girl with chestnut brown wings, was reading on the front steps while her younger brother was running around, he couldn't have been older than five. Every now and then he'd stop and yell something to her. She just glared at him, beat her wings briefly before going back to her book.

"That's the Addams' kids," she stated calmly as she slowed down even more and waved at them. The little boy waved back enthusiastically as Nat stopped outside their house. The girl waved a little and calmly shut her book as her little brother ran as fast as he could to the side of the car. Steve for a moment was almost afraid that he would run straight into the passenger's side door but at the last moment, he skidded to a stop. Steve, completely confused rolled down his window since that was the polite thing. The girl had made it halfway down the lawn towards them but was more focused on preening her feathers. She must have been leaning against the bush on the side of the porch since there was a small leave sticking out of her down feathers on one of the wings

"Hi!" the boy almost shouted into the car.

"Hey little John," Nat responded with a big smile. When the girl got closer Nat waved out at her. "Hey, sweetie. How's the book?" The girl shrugged before putting her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. Once she got closer Steve saw that she was closer to thirteen. A bit of an age gap between the two. He wondered why that was.

"Good so far. You might like it." While they were talking the little boy had grabbed onto the side of the car and was trying to pull himself up to look at Steve.

"Hi?" Steve asked the boy who was just sort of watching him with wide eyes.

"You look like Captain America." Steve's brows shot up to his hairline.

"That's because he is, duh," his sister was the one to respond first. The girl crossed her arms and fluttered her wings slightly. "He's a friend of Natalie's." She stated it so matter-of-fact that it sort of surprised Steve. She looked at him a moment as she brought her wings tight into her body.

"I am," he said weakly before giving the girl a tight smile. He could feel the eye-roll Nat was doing behind him, really could just feel it. He turned to look at her and caught the end of it.

"You're so good with kids," she stated sarcastically. "Hey, you two. Tell your parents I'll be around tomorrow for lunch like usual if they still want." Steve picked up the hesitation in her voice but thankfully it looked like the kids did not. They both nodded before saying their goodbyes. Nat just waved at them before pulling away from the curb and driving to the end of the street and turning right. The street was a dead end with one house at the end.

It was smaller than the rest, single story but it rounded off the dead end street nicely. The paint was a light sky blue which caused the bright red of the flowers that were abundant on the property to pop. It was a nice house. To Steve's surprise, they rolled right into the drive and then right into the garage.

Nat got out first without looking back. She paused at the hood of the car as she started tapping away on his phone. Steve slowly climbed out of the car, watching her the whole time. To say he was completely and utterly confused was an understatement. His first thought was that they were breaking into someone else's house but he remembered seeing Nat press a button on her phone which then lifted the garage door. They stood four feet apart yet it seemed miles right now. He shook out his wings and that was the movement that drew her attention back to him.

"Don't forget to grab your bag." With that she pocketed her phone and brought her keys up, selecting a small silver one with a neon green rubber top to it. She went around him to the side door which probably leads into the house as he leaned down and grabbed said back. Nat swung open the door before leaning out, phone back in hand before pressing something on the screen. "I always forget to relock the garage door," she stated calmly before disappearing inside.

"Nat?" Steve questioned as he followed her in, closing the door behind him. Before him was a good sized kitchen with an island in the middle topped with marble, he suspected. A table with four chairs sat to his right. It was modern but not overbearing. Weak light streaming in through both windows, one next to the table and the second on the other side of the front wall in front of the sink. Nat was at the island flipping through papers and throwing away from envelopes that looked like they were nothing but junk mail. "It's nice," Steve finally stated awkwardly as he shuffled his feet a bit and switched his bag to his other hand.

"It is," Nat said absentmindedly.

"Who's is it?"

"Mine." She went to the fridge and pulled it open. "Want anything? Food? Drink?"

"Maybe later."

"Good because I haven't gone shopping this week." As she closed the door Steve was finally able to gather some of his bearings. He stepped further into the kitchen and did a look around. Not too many personal items but it wasn't by any means sterile. Two books sat on the counter next to a coffee pot. One was a mystery it looked like while the other was a biography of someone Steve had never heard of. On the window over the sink there were a few random salt and pepper shakers. He recognized a few from TV shows Nat had made him put on the list but some escaped him.

"You live here?" Steve turned back to Nat with a furrowed brow. "How long?"

She just shrugged as she leaned against the door with a can of something in her hand. "Two years, I think?" she stated questioningly. "Maybe less. Fury thought it'd be easier if I had a home base near S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters." For a moment as Nat looked around the kitchen with its attempts at a normal life Steve saw something raw in her eyes.

"Can I have a tour?" he asked hesitantly but it seemed to be the right move. She perked up, nodding at him before cracking open the can of soda. From the kitchen, she showed him the living room with its large TV and extremely comfortable looking couch. It was gray with a few blankets on one side. Connected to the living room on the backside of the house was a small dining room that had be converted into a workshop. There were a few weapons but mostly small metal figures that were half painted. He wasn't too sure what they were but as she walked past the table Nat's hand went out to a small female figure with a staff and a feline beside it. She just grazed her hand atop it and moved on. From the dining room was a slightly raised off the ground screened in porch. Steve spied another novel, this one turned upside down as if the reader was just holding the place for a short while but it was warped by water, possibly rain.

"Shit," she muttered as Nat saw it too. She picked the book up and frowned when she noticed it was beyond ruined. Steve remarked the title, committing it to memory. With a sigh she motioned Steve back in, depositing the ruined book in a trash can before shutting and locking the back door behind them. From there they turned right leaving the dining room workshop and entering a hallway. To their left were the living room and kitchen. Along the hall was three doors. One was slightly open revealing a bathroom. Nat went to the first door, opening it revealing a decent sized bedroom. No personal touches all except the bookcases full of books.

"What's the last door?"

"That's my bedroom. This is the guest room," she stated while quickly turning to him and snatching the bag from his hand. She threw the bag onto the bed and just smirked up at him. "Bathroom is across the hall. There's also another one off the kitchen behind the door to the basement. The basement is fun." She gave him a smirk before moving to leave the room.

"Nat?"

"We should order in some dinner. Not a lot deliveries here but we have a few options," she continued to talk as she made her way out into the hall, ignoring Steve completely. Steve followed and called her name again. Again she ignored him. "We had pizza a few too many times on the run so I am going to vote that down. Only one good Chinese place deliveries here. There's an amazing Greek place that I was able to start delivering here six months ago. Also really amazing sushi place half a mile out of the neighborhood. Owned by a really nice family too." She paused as she hit the living room. Her arms crossed as she stopped to think. Steve almost opened his mouth to ask again but he knew by this point it was useless.

"I could really go for some sushi," Steve stated softly. For a few months after Loki's attack on New York Steve had lived in Stark Tower. Tony had a habit of randomly ordering sushi at any time of the day so after a few weeks, Steve had actually grown to love it. During his time in D.C. Steve hadn't found a good enough substitute.

Nat just turned around and smiled at him while nodding. "Sushi actually sounds amazing. I have the menu in the kitchen." She motioned him forward pausing at the entrance and looking back at him. "You can pay." Steve didn't have a problem with that. If the sushi was 'really amazing' like she said there was a good chance he'd eat triple what she did.

 

"So," Nat stated while waving around her chopsticks and shifted so that she was sitting cross-legged on the couch, facing Steve. Steve who was currently hording the yellowtail sashimi. It took her a moment to notice but when she did she smacked him with the back side of her chopsticks. "Don't be a glutton." His eyes shifted to the small mound of sushi on her living room table which was actually a beaten up chest.

"Sorry," Steve mumbled shoving a spicy tuna roll in his mouth. She just rolled her eyes as she picked up a yellowtail from the plate resting on his chest with one hand and grabbing for her beer with the other. Steve just shifted so that he was mirroring Nat's position. His wings fanned out behind him on the armrest of the couch.

"So, okay." She paused and took a sip of her beer before continuing. "You said earlier you've seen all of Star Wars even the prequels which we told you not to even both with." Steve rolled his eyes remembering Clint dramatically lamenting their very existence. Still, he had been curious and like usual his curiosity bit him in the ass quite painfully. This particular time was a different kind of pain but painful nonetheless.

"Pass the salmon." Nat finally plopped the yellow tail into her mouth before flipping her chopsticks and grabbing two salmon before placing them on the plate Steve was hoarding. She ducked back in for a spicy tuna roll.

"Anyways, did you ever watch Star Trek? Because if you watch one you have to watch the other," she stated with a lopsided smile since one cheek was bulging out with sushi.

"It's on the list." Steve paused to chew before adding, "When I looked it up there were so many. No one told me where to start." Nat's eyes lit up as she dropped her chopsticks onto Steve's plate before scrambling to her feet, almost launching herself across the living room. She gracefully found her footing as she bent down. She stood back up with a remote control in her hand.

"So, you should always start at the beginning of the timeline with Star Trek: TOS. Enterprise doesn't count." She sat back down on the couch with a huff.

"TOS?" Steve was kind of lost.

"The Original Series. It's from the late 60's so, to be honest, it's extremely cheesy." She picked up her chopsticks as she turned on the TV. Steve also noticed she hadn't put down her beer throughout that whole thing. She stuck her chopsticks between her teeth as she shifted the remote to her free hand and started to navigate through a menu. "Found it. Oh, they have 'The Cage.' I'll explain it after." She started the first episode before shoving the remote between the top couch cushions so that it visibly stuck out behind them. Steve eyed it a moment realizing that was a very good idea.

 

Five hours later and it was bridging on midnight. The food was completely gone and surprisingly Nat had eaten her fair share. She had also depleted most of a six pack of beer by herself. The ending credits to the last episode were streaming upward on the screen when Steve sat up and cracked his back. His wings fluttered out as he worked out the kinks. Nat was nestled into the couch, haven't wrapped herself in a soft deep blue blanket after the second actual episode. She had held to her word and explained 'The Cage' to him.

"Think it's time to turn in?" she asked from her deep spot on the couch. It was almost as if she had burrowed in deep on second nature and maybe it was. This was her house after all. That thought was still odd. Steve just shrugged as he stood up, stretching again. "Probably a good idea," she mumbled as she extracted herself from the couch but dragging the blanket along with her. They walked in silence down the hall, Steve stopping in front of the guest bedroom door as Nat walked past to her own bedroom.

"Hey, Nat?" She turned to him sluggishly. The fact that she was allowing him to see her tired, possibly a bit tipsy was kind of mind blowing and why that was would need to be thought through but he wasn't that much more awake then she was. Hell, he had only walked out of the hospital earlier today hell bent on finding his kidnapped and tortured best friend. She made a soft sound of acknowledgment as she leaned against her doorway and look at him. "Thanks. This was fun."

"I'm uncomfortably yet happily full," she mumbled, half her mouth pressed to the wood. A soft smile touched Steve's lips as he took her in. For all her hard edges it was sometimes easy to forget just how young she was, not just in years but in mentality.

"I'm with you on that but again, thank you."

She just shrugged as she pushed off the door frame and made her way inside but not before Steve heard her say one last thing. "Star Trek always helps," and he guessed it did. He went into the guest room, threw his bag to the floor before climbing into bed fully clothed. He lay there for far longer than he cared to admit just staring at the ceiling. The room was cast in a soft, very faint light from the two windows in the room. Nat's neighbor had gotten to turn off their backyard light or maybe it was a motion detector and some wildlife had wandered by. It wouldn't surprise Steve since behind the houses was woods. How deep? He wasn't sure.

A sigh escaped his lips as he realized what he was doing, thinking of everything else but what was weighing on his mind. What had been weighing on him all through their mini marathon and as much as Steve had meant that thank you to Nat at the same time he wished she hadn't put on that show. A show about science and great accomplishments in the future. A show that Buck would have loved. He was a clear sucker for science fiction when they were younger, reading all the novels he could get his hands on, especially that of Buck Rogers. He used to joke with Steve that if they had been one person this would be the person. Steve had laughed but something inside his chest clenched when Bucky had told him if Steve ever found the right girl to settle down with and start a family, his first child would be a Buck Rogers. Maybe he would have had that with Peggy because out of all the women out there she saw him before the serum and she truly saw him after. It had not escaped her notice how he looked at her and at Bucky and how it was one in the same but she wanted him no less for it. Maybe they would have named their first child Buck but that would have only been if Buck had lived. Steve knew it even then. When Bucky fell, he was destined to fall not long after and that he did.

Now, all these decades later as he lay in the guest room of an ex-Russian assassin Buck was out there suffering in who knows how many ways. It wasn't fair but it would have to do. Somewhere over the course of the night, Steve had decided to wait, to follow the plan Nat had set before them. He wasn't completely convinced with letting her come along but it wasn't until tonight- as they relaxed for hours and just enjoyed each other's company- it wasn't until now that Steve truly realized how lonely he was. Maybe, judging by how Nat lit up when she talked about her own interests, maybe no one noticed how lonely she was as well. Hell, he could bet no one, besides Clint, knew about this house. With neighbors that had her over for lunch regularly and children that had no problem running up to her car to say hello.

All these thoughts drifted in and out of his mind's eyes as darkness slowly started to creep into the edges. As he finally succumbed to sleep his last thought was how this night would have been better if Bucky was there as well, hoarding his own share of sushi and watching the adventures of a starship captain with rapt attention. It would have rounded out the evening. He only admitted this when the land of dreams and the realm of consciousness started to blend, but it would have been a better evening if Nat was on one side of the couch while Bucky and Steve were curled up on the other but that was a wistful thought and reality was never so nice.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Amazing Art By Aideryn](aideryn.tumblr.com)   
>  [Story by Me!](whispersofdelirum.tumblr.com)

It had been almost a month since the attack. Steve's feathers hadn't grown back in but it didn't really matter. They were useless anyways. If he was to bear the brunt of society's hatred for white wings, then he should at least be able to fly. When Buck was seventeen and Steve sixteen, when Buck had shot up five inches in a summer while Steve was still small, he had taken Steve out to Central Park to a part of the park where almost no one ever went. There he scooped Steve up, mindful of a bruised wing from a bully earlier in the week, and soared into the air. 

It had been the first time Steve had flown. Bucky had beaten his beautiful dark brown wings and held Steve close to his chest. Steve had been so overwhelmed. He hadn't been sure what to focus on; the beautiful view over the treetops or the feel of Buck's chest pressed against him. This only happened when Steve was still and too ill to truly appreciate it. Instead, he leaned back and watched the sun crest the horizon. Every now and then Buck would speed through the treetops before swinging back for that same amazing view but that was years ago. Steve was just shy of too big for that now and Bucky went back to only holding him like that when they both thought Steve's fragile body would finally give up the battle.

Steve sat bitterly by the window in the kitchen, with a mug of heated water since they ran out of coffee last week in his hands, and watched the few winged that braved the skies in April. The winds weren't as bad as March but Bucky always still complained about them. Most winged didn't fly for long, especially not in a city with all the clothes lines and hanging wires, but it still did seem damn useful and convenient for them when they did fly. 

Steve's sketchbook, the newest one, sat open in his lap, the page untouched as his charcoal lay forgotten on the table beside him. It barely cross his mind that Buck would probably make a fuss when he got home. Steve hadn’t been to careful about the charcoal dust around him. Instead his mind was preoccupied with envy.

Steve took a sip of his plain boiled water before coughing. A slight wheeze came at the end. It wasn't as bad as last night when Steve had sat by the wood stove unable to really breathe and shivering. Even though the weather had gotten better, didn't mean his health had but today was a Saturday and after their fight last night Steve had no plans on leaving the apartment. Buck had taken that choice from him this morning.

Speaking of Buck, it'd be a while before he came home. His shift at the dock didn't end for another hour but it was market day. Usually, Steve would go since it was one of the few things he could do to help but Buck had purposefully not left him the money for their weekly groceries. This was the choice he had taken from Steve and he was not happy about it but he never did say Buck played fair. He had left this morning for his shift with the entirety of their savings, possibly shoved in his sock. 

Steve only had the three dollars he had earned earlier in the week helping the cobbler in the next building over with his window front. Three dollars was barely anything but it was all he could contribute for now, all except running the errands. Now Buck had taken that from him. He had good intentions but it was driving Steve nuts. Buck was out there working two jobs to keep them going, to keep Steve in school. Buck always tried to placate him, saying once Steve was done with his fancy art degree it was his turn to sell some of those Steve Rogers originals and pay Bucky's way through school. Steve always forced a smile and nodded. Bucky was too good a person but Steve knew no one would want to buy anything from a white-winged.

Steve was under no illusions that Bucky's parents were helping in some way. Steve knew he wasn't supposed to know this but the Barnes' had been the ones to pay for his first year at school, disguising it as a grant. Now into his second year he had actually secured a real grant from the school but the Barnes' were probably one of the reasons they still had food every week. They were well enough off, what with Mr. Barnes being a government worker in Manhattan. One of the only people around to have kept their job after the market crash happened. He’d even gotten Bucky a job there once they had graduated from high school. Buck's hours weren't as many as he'd like but it paid. He had offered to get Steve a job there just to be nice when both knew it was next to impossible, but Bucky had insisted that he needed to go to art school seeing as how it was Sarah Rogers last wish. At the time she made him promise that, she wasn't aware that all the money they saved would have to go to her funeral. Or that the country would stay in that downward spiral for so long. 

The least he could do was the errands and keeping their apartment in some semblance of order, but it seemed this last bout of injury scared Buck more than either of them wanted to admit. So instead, Steve sat at their kitchen table, watching the people on the street below, some of the winged in the sky and pretending to do his still life assignment. An assignment that he saw no point in. It wasn't going to put food on their table or keep their landlord happy at the beginning of the month. None of the few jobs left no one would hire a walking illness like him, let alone one with bright white wings.

He sat there stewing angrily in his own misery as he watched the sun slowly creep towards the horizon, fewer and fewer people were on the streets. April in New York still had a bite to the air. It was only pleasant when the sun was out. Steve had sat there for so long he hadn't realized that he wasted away a whole Saturday until the sound of someone banging around on their stairs pulled his attention from the window. His first thought was of how painfully blank the paper of his sketchpad was. Next was that Bucky was home. 

Quickly, Steve cleaned up the table and flipping his pad to a filled in page with a lovely bowl of fruit he had drawn in class a few days ago. He also threw another log into the wood stove, moving around what had been slowly dying embers before grabbing their billows and starting the fire again. The log ignited just as Bucky finally got the door open and shambled through it grumbling about something or other. By the time Steve swung around the divider Buck had stopped. He also had two large bags in his arms.

"You going to help or just stare?" Steve rolled his eyes as he went over to take one of the bags which he soon saw wasn't very full at all. Just two loaves of bread, a small bag of rice and a bag of pasta that he knew was from Nonna Gerani on the next block. Buck dropped his bag onto the kitchen table before peering closely at the drawing in Steve's sketchpad. "Nice, Stevie. You're definitely coming along. Too bad this ain't new. We ain't got grapes." He shot Steve a dirty look before breaking out in a mischievous grin. Steve dropped his bag next to the other as he cursed under his breath. Why did he even try anymore? Buck was too damn observant for his own good.

Steve pointedly ignored his friend as he started to unpack the two bags. A small bag of apples, two individually wrapped steaks, a handful of different vegetables, and a jug of milk. He furrowed his brow realizing there was more than usual. Strange, since Buck had never stopped by to collect Steve's meager earnings for the week. Once the bags were empty he folded them up and put them on the top of their icebox.

"Not in the mood for talking?"

"That ain't it, Bucky and you know that." Steve crossed his arms and leaned against the table. "How come we have so much food here? And on that why'd you go to the market without me?"

"Dad sent me off Friday with an extra five in my pocket."

"Why?" Steve loved the Barnes family but it never did sit right when they handed out charity like this. Buck made enough money to survive on. The extra was needed for the dead weight, for him.

"Mentioned how I was craving a good stew, like Bobbeshi Gila used to make. Remember that?" Bobbeshi Gila was Bucky's grandmother, on his dad's side. Only grandparent actually that had been able to escape the old country with the rest of the family. She had come across with Mr. Barnes and his four siblings. Bucky's mom had been sent over with her older sister the year before. That's really all Steve knew, but he grew up with Bobbeshi Gila as a surrogate grandmother until her death when they were teens. Her Star of David had passed to her oldest son then to Bucky, the oldest grandchild. He had even been playing with that same Star of David necklace as he talked.

"Thank your dad for me," Steve stated civilly before turning to put some things in the icebox. "And also let him know my cough ain't nothing special. He don't need to be giving us handouts over it." A loud, exasperated sigh reached his ears as he finished putting the food away. When he turned around Buck was standing behind him with his arms crossed.

"So what if I got it for your cough? It hasn't sounded good since... since last month." Buck paused with furrowed brow before continuing. "I also really wanted the stew because it always made you feel better when we were kids." Steve really had no response to that. The stew did always make him feel better when he was sick as a kid but that was because Bucky and his grandmother used to bring a big old pot of it over to their small apartment. They then spent the evening wrapped up in blankets while enjoying each others’ company. That's what made him feel better and the stew didn't hurt.

"Fine." Steve finally relented as he moved away from the kitchen table and into their shared room, ducking behind the separating curtain. There really was no arguing with Buck on this. The food was already bought and with all those vegetables there was no other way they'd eat all those before they spoiled. Their old icebox wasn't keeping things as cold for as long as it used to.

A few minutes later he emerged and headed straight to the kitchen before throwing down the three dollars onto the table where Buck had started cutting up carrots. Buck just sighed deeply before looking up and raising his brows. His wings drooped as he took Steve in. Steve stood as tall as his crooked spine would allow, wings tugged in close behind him. This was the fight he had the strength for tonight even if he had to clench his jaw tight and ignore the cough that tried to rip from his throat. His lungs hurt as they stared off but Steve held firm.

"I'm not taking that," Buck said at last. He stood up and pressed his knuckles against the table as he stared Steve down. Steve just glared him down as he slide the money closer.

"It's my share." His share had taken a week's worth of work on that front window display. It was all his body had allowed him to do recently. First it was recovering from his attack, then it's been battling the almost ever present cough since. "Damn it, Buck. Take it. You haven't let me put in for anything in weeks."

"That's because you haven't been well enough to earn anything. I'm not taking the money you've been saving up for those new paint brushes you need for next semester."

"There ain't no more savings." Steve paused as he crossed his arms. "I killed that when we needed more firewood two months ago." Buck sighed again, this time, this sigh, felt like it had come straight from the depths of his bones. Steve could see it in the expanse of his chest and the wariness of his limbs. His head hung before the tension in his limbs loosened slightly. Not in a relaxing sort of way but in a way muscles do once it's finally acknowledged how tired a person truly was.

"How'd I know that's where the money came from?" Buck asked with his head still hung low to his chest. He picked his gaze up and looked Steve dead in the eye. "Good damn thing I put that money in a sock where you'll never find it and that money won't be getting touched until you need those brushes next semester."

"Buck..."

"Don't get all soft of me, Stevie. Just come over here and help me get this stew together."

 

Steve's eyes snapped open as the door to the guest room slowly crept open. He looked out into the hall but saw no one. A moment later the smell of freshly brewed coffee hit him hard. Steve could also make out the faint sound of someone puttering around in the room to his right. The kitchen. It was the kitchen, he remembered as a few more moments of consciousness cleared the fog from his mind. Nat's house. Last night came back to him as he sat up, swung his feet around to the ground before stretching out. His wings expanded almost the length of the room. Two long feathers fell from his left wing, landing on the bed. He sighed loudly before gathering them up and shoving them into his bag.

It was then he realized that he had worn his jeans and t-shirt to bed. He made a split second decision and changed into his pajama pants and an old beat up gray t-shirt that was specifically cut for those with wings. He brought in one wing tight to his body then the other as he took one shirt off then put the other on. After quickly folding his dirty clothes, he made his way out, stopping briefly in the bathroom before heading out towards the kitchen. The smell of bacon hit him just as he was about to turn and move into the kitchen proper. For a moment the sound and the smell sparked a memory, Bucky standing over the stove watching bacon intently.

_ 'Steve, stop making fun. This is way too expensive to just burn. Besides it ain't for me, remember that or I'll burn it on purpose. _ '

Bacon was only ever made for Steve's birthday in those days. Buck didn't eat it on account of being Jewish but it had always been a mighty treat for Steve. His mother used to make it for birthdays and holidays. After she passed they only had the money for just his birthday. Now anyone could really walk into a grocery story and snatch some up without really worrying about the cost. That was one of the differences that had really stuck out to Steve. Not the technology advance, nor the beautiful mixing of cultures, but the food.

"Good morning," Nat greeted distractedly from her place atop the kitchen island. She was situated with her legs crossed and a book opened across her lap. A steaming mug of something was beside her knee.

"Don't think that's for sitting."

"Who here pays the mortgage? I sit where I want." Steve just rolled his eyes as he followed his nose to the coffee. "Mugs are above and if you want cream or sugar they’re on the table behind me." He nodded as he went about making his coffee up as he liked, light with one sugar. Bacon sputtered away on the stove as this all happened. Seems Nat was keeping an eye on it while reading whatever was in her lap.

"Anything good?" He motioned to the book with his coffee after taking a large sip of it. She picked it up and showed him the cover without responding, before placing it back down on her lap. Steve rolled his eyes as he leaned one hip against the island and continued to sip his coffee. 'The Fire Sermon,' Steve wondered what type of book it was. If he had thought to bring out his pocket computer, or what most called their phones now, he'd have just looked it up. 

Two loud sputters from behind him drew his attention to the stove. The bacon was done and before Nat could get down and tend to it, Steve had placed his mug down. He took off the cooked bacon and replaced it with some uncooked bacon from the package to his right. A grunt from behind him drew his attention back to Nat who was leaning over slightly with her arm stretched out, making grabby hands. Her eyes did not pause as they moved along the page. She took a sip of her coffee before turning the page. Steve sighed before moving the plate of bacon closer to her.

"Thanks," she mumbled before starting to nibble on the piece. Steve took one for himself, blowing on it because it was still very, very hot. How Nat could just go right into eating it, he had no idea.

"How are you not burning yourself?" She just shrugged before grabbing a small slip of paper and slipping it into her book seeing as she had reached the end of a chapter, Steve noticed.

"I hope you're not expecting anything else. Bacon's really all I can cook." Steve shrugged, realizing that made sense. Bucky did most of the cooking back in the day but eggs he could do. That was if she even had eggs. They had been gone for a while and she had said she was down to bare bones. A moment later with his head in the refrigerator he realized she wasn't joking. So, breakfast was out. A chill ran down his spine as something ran down his wing. He shot up and turned quickly, bringing his wings tight against his body. Nat sat stock still with wide eyes. 

"You had cat hair on you."

"You have a cat?" For some reason above all else that was what really shocked him. Nat had a cat. A small smile tugged on his lips as he realized that rhymed. It was a joke that he would never say out loud because he knew it would warrant her making fun of him for ages to come. "Where is it?"

"He’s probably still in my room. You might not see him for a bit because new people scare him." She paused, taking a sip from her mug. Her head wobbled as if she was debating with herself before speaking again, "I found him half dead in a gutter down in Brazil."

"What's his name?"

"Doesn't really have one. Couldn't decide so I just call him 'The Cat.' He answers, mostly. Clint calls him Chewie, after Chewbacca but mostly because he used to chew on Clint's hands whenever he came over." Chewbacca, it took Steve a minute but he remembered.

"The furry thing from Star Wars, right?" She just laughed and nodded her head. An answering smile tugged on Steve's lips as he finished the rest of his coffee and putting the empty mug in the sink.

"So fake funeral starts at noon. Got anything nice to wear?"

"Yeah, I think so." Nat just shrugged as she hopped off the island and grabbed up two more slices of bacon and flipping the ones currently cooking.

 

The funeral was short and lovely. Steve stood off to the side since he actually didn't have anything nice to wear. The nicest he had was a plain white shirt and clean jeans. About half way through Sam joined them, looking just about the same level of dressed up. Just about the time Sam showed up Nat begged off. She feigned having to make a call but as he watched her walk away she didn't attempt to take out her phone. She disappeared down the road away from where she parked the car, faster than should be possible in heels without looking hurried.

After the ceremony was finished and most were departed a man in shabby clothing with one arm braced up across his chest walked up to the grave. It was the perfect place for goodbyes. Fury's was no surprise. The man already had a plan to head to Europe for some reason. Natasha, on the other hand, was a surprise. She showed back up just as Fury started to walk away. Steve had been expecting her to kidnap him back to her house again, escape from reality with Star Trek for just one more night. Seemed she needed to work on her own side of things.. He had forgotten that she had blown all her covers. Besides, Chewie deserved to spend at least a little time with her and she had that lunch date on Sunday with the Addams. For a moment he was deeply envious. 

One of her parting shot was prodding him to call the blond agent that lived undercover down the hall from him. He played along but it was just for show. Bucky was back that's all he could think of and getting him back by his side was all Steve wanted right now. She kissed him on the cheek and wished him luck before parting with a word of warning. Some strings should never be tugged on. She was right about that, but this was not one of them. Not for Steve. 

He sighed, flipping open the folder. The first page was an old blurry picture of Bucky, of the Winter Soldier, in what he guessed was some sort of suspension chamber. It felt like a solid punch to the gut. Below it was a candid photo of Bucky in his dress uniform. He only wore it a total of three times after being rescued from Azzano but they were three distinct times. Steve knew exactly where this one was taken, if though it was a close up of just Bucky's face. He looked so hopefully happy right there. They had been at a market, one of the last surviving ones, just outside Marseilles. 

The Howlies were milling about and interacting as best they could with the locals. It had been the first normal thing they had seen in the four months since Steve had helped them out of that prison camp. Morita, Falsworth, and Dum Dum had wandered off fairly early after two men who were rolling caskets of ale. Jones and Dernier had walked behind them for a few turns before breaking off for some reason or another. Bucky and him had gotten almost an entire day to themselves. It had been a good day, filled with good memories. Towards the end of the day Buck had looked refreshed. The haunted look to his eyes from Azzano was almost all but vanished. None of the Howlies had a camera at this point. Morita had 'rescued' one from a Nazi soldier a month later but at this time no Howlie could have taken this picture. Cold anger landed hard in the pit of his stomach as he realized who had to have taken this photo.

"You're going after him," Sam stated a moment later. 

"You don't have to come with me," Steve stated, unable to take his eyes of the photos. His wings tensed, drawing in close to his body. 

"I know." Sam paused, looking away. "When do we start?" A small, very small smile tugged on Steve's lips. He closed the file and turned to Sam.

"I'm not sure." He paused before swearing under his breath and bringing his hand to his forehead. "I left my only bag of clothes at Nat's place." Sam just nodded as he clapped Steve on the shoulder and motioned off to the side. Steve sighed before following. They walked in silence before coming to a blue car that looked new enough. Sam took his keys out and unlocked the doors.

"We can grab you some new threads as we come up with a plan and I don't care what you say, Rogers. We are coming up with a plan." Steve couldn't help but to chuckle at him before stopping as he opened the passenger's side door. In the back seat was the bag he had thought he left at Nat's.

"Did Nat give you my bag earlier?" Sam looked at him completely surprised for a moment before peering into his back seat.

"Oh hell, no. She can break into locked, armed cars. That just made her fifty percent scarier and fifty percent more bad ass." He shook his head in disbelief before getting in. Steve followed suit.

 

Two hours later Sam and Steve made a very quick trip to the closest mall. According to Sam, Steve needed more than a bag full of clothes, really half a bag full since the other half was his sketch pad and a few books. Sam had definitely given him a stink eye over that. Mostly they bought practice attire like running clothes and a few things from the wilderness store. His Captain America suit had been destroyed with the fight over the Potomac so he would have to wear something else in the meantime. At least Sam had been holding onto his shield after they had fished it out of the Potomac with the rest of the rubble.

They got him a new phone and Sam, after sweet talking the girl at the store, was able to get his old number attached to this phone which was a lot more advanced than his last one. The last one made some sort of sense. This one had a screen. Sam called it a smart phone and to quit mourning the lose of his old flip phone. All his contacts were gone, unfortunately. He definitely owed Sam for all of this considering the majority of his funds were frozen right now due to investigation from the government. He was getting paid by S.H.I.E.L.D. for being an active agent which meant he was being paid by Hydra. The idea didn't sit well with him, that much was sure, but those were paychecks rightfully earned. At least there was that. 

They spent the rest of the night back at Sam's place meticulously going over the small stack of papers Nat had been able to get. At first, the notes scribbled along the margins and the reports of 'conditioning' made Steve sick to his stomach. They talked about his wings, overjoyed at getting a man with such dark coloring to his feathers, a man with so much extra soul they could use and manipulate. They even conducted a few experiments on the wings themselves after they healed. Steve remembered how a wing had been broken only minutes before on the train. How when he got thrown against the back wall of the train one of his wings snapped. The sickening crack that echoed in the tiny space still haunted him to this day. Or how when he was preoccupied with getting Bucky to his feet so they could fight their way out another one of those energy blasts had hit Steve's own wing, blowing the the feathers off and fracturing the secunda ulna bone. Buck had just enough smarts about him to crack a joke about how their escape plan needed to be rethought. It all came back, remembering how he helpless he felt watching his friend fall with wings frantically flapping, one at a painfully odd angle. His own broken, unable to fly down and save him.

Steve pulled himself from the past and focused on the documents in front of him which may have been a bad idea. He continued to read about the experiments, the tortures Bucky had inflicted on him. They had given him the metal arm fairly early but had no original notions of letting him keep it but the arm only worked for Bucky after they injected him with Serum 629. It sounded very much like his own but not nearly as refined. It mentioned side effects but only vaguely.

He pictured every word, every action taken against Buck. These weren't the pages from the very beginning of his capture or even when he was held in Azzano but they were early on. Steve did stop for a bit when he got to the part where they told Bucky that Captain America had died. Told Buck how he had put a plane into frozen sea and never came out.

They wrote about his reaction in a clinical manner noting on his emotional responses and how he killed a guard trying to escape because he didn't believe them. How from then on he told them Stevie would come. How he’d call out for Stevie, talk to Stevie. 

He put the file away and left. Escaping the house before he imploded. Sam said not a word as he got up, his wings taut against back. Feathers shook from tension. The rest of him was a solid line as he left and walked away. Sam took the file and read through it all.

He had read it over twice, almost three times when Steve finally dragged his feet up the side steps and back into the house. Sam watched as he sat back down in his original seat like nothing was wrong. Steve for his part now looked completely emotionless and that was probably for the best. During his walk, which turned into a run, he had calmed himself down to a near emotionless mindset. It took all his willpower but he could do this. Fury had taught him this. Had taught him to look at the facts first, learn everything, then get angry. 

Back at the task at hand Steve couldn't find evidence for how long Buck remembered him. The file jumped forward almost twenty years. They talked about the Soldier now instead of James Barnes. The writing turned from clinical trial and error to basically praising the Asset as the greatest weapon Hydra has ever had. Two more pictures were clipped to reports. Neither were of Buck but they were shots of what Hydra made him do. Two assassinations in two different decades. No names Steve knew, but when he pointed them out to Sam the man sighed sadly and nodded saying he'd explain them later. Were these bad men? Or did they just threaten the world order Hydra was so keen on creating? They might have been a mixture of both. Buck killed in the war but that's because he had to, keeping people safe and taking out those who threatened the weak. He took no joy in those killings but very much like Steve, Buck had always hated bullies too.

At just before midnight Sam sat up, stretching out his back, before taking the file and all its papers away from Steve. "You need sleep and so do I," was all he said before putting the files away. Steve purposefully didn't watch where he was putting them. Sam was right he needed sleep. If he knew where that file was he'd read it over and over and over again until the sun rose again.

When he rose from the kitchen table it was only then that he realized every part of his body was stiff and sore. His stomach was still tender to the touch from being shot and the injury to his back was mostly healed but the muscles were still tight. Not to mention his wings ached something fierce. Buck always said he held all his stress in the joints of his wings. If he balled up his fists his wings would tense up as well. It was just how he was hardwired and it wasn't something the serum could fix. Tomorrow he'd go fly for a bit, just long enough to his wings a good stretch. He would have flown earlier if he had thought to. Even after all these years it was still a strange concept. He had gone twenty three years unable to fly. Four almost five years with the serum and fully functional wings weren’t enough to erase how his mind worked. Running, even with his bad lungs back in the day, used to be his go to. He'd never last long but the rush of the air around him was the closest he thought he'd ever get to flying. 

Steve stretched out his wings as he stood in Sam's kitchen, looking out the window with a faraway look to his eyes. Sam just watched him, probably wondering what was going through his mind. Steve couldn’t even answer that. His mind was to messy to decipher right now.

The moment passed and Steve's posture slumped slightly as he brought his wings back in. He didn't want to say anything and alarm Sam but he had been sure there was a shadow by the window. After taking a good look, he realized it was just the high bushes out front. A breeze must have come by and shook them slightly. He was overly tired and wound too tight. Not a good combination. Bed did sound like a very good idea. He nodded to Sam and made his way to the guest room in the back. Sam just bid him good night before making his way to his own room. 

Tiredly, Steve traded his jeans and t-shirt for pajama bottoms. It was warm, allowing him to open the window. Fresh air wafted in as he sat down heavily on the bed letting his head fall into his hands. He stayed like that for too long. The sound of his phone almost twenty minutes later finally roused him to move. It beeped once. Settled. Then beeped again. Steve's brow furrowed as he leaned over to the bedside table where he left it to charge. The smooth glass almost slipped from his hands causing his mind to jolt fully awake for a moment. He hadn't put the plain black cover on it that Sam had browbeat him into getting.

_ Got you a new suit. It'll be at Sam's tomorrow morning. _ The number didn't look familiar.

_ Who is this? _ he typed back as he shifted fully onto the bed. His wings flexed outward as he rested against the headboard. Absentmindedly he started to run his fingers through his down feathers.

A moment later Steve received a response,  _ Shall we play a game?  _

_ Ah, got it and thank you _

_ You're welcome. Text/call if you need me to save your ass. _ Steve chuckled lowly under his breath before placing the phone back on the end table. He shifted down in the bed and closed his eyes. At first his mind was wide awake, thoughts jumbled up, bouncing back and forth. He wasn't convinced he would ever sleep again, not with those images of Bucky being hurt in his head. Soon though darkness swallowed his thoughts and he was fast asleep.

 

 

They were stationed behind a small building that still had two of the walls up, floor roof had collapsed at an angle giving them a good place to hide. The Howlies piled into the small space and watched. The mission was to capture the leader of this group, a man named Baumgarten. They had one picture to go off of. Seems this Baumgarten had secretly been teaching good little Nazis about Hydra, about how Hitler was right but they needed to go further, do more.

There were two bodies strung up outside the town hall, a man and a child. The child looked no older than twelve. Morita was the first to notice the child. He swore high and low before moving back and sitting against one of the two remaining walls. Steve noted a few guards patrolling back and forth, guns that glowed blue in hand. The civilians were terrified. This had to end soon, by nightfall. The mission was just to find Baumgarten and extract him. Steve wasn't too sure that was going to happen. He planned on personally taking down as many guards as possible in only an hour, judging by the dying light.

"If we have to Baumgarten can live but the rest are getting one of my bullets in their skull. Granted that German fuck won't be too happy we spared his life after I'm done," Buck whispered to him, lips barely moving as he checked his rifle. Morita was on the other side of their hideout doing the same thing. Command thought having two designated marksman was a good idea but Steve had seen Bucky shoot since Azzano. He was good, good enough. Morita's quick feet and smaller statue were wasted hiding behind a tree.

Steve slowly peered around to see if anyone else had heard. Buck had done this a few times since returning to the 107th with Steve. He talked under his breath. Sometimes Steve wasn't even sure he realized it, but at times he was almost sure Buck said it softly close to his ear on purpose. That these words of anger and violence were only for Steve's ears, the only one that wouldn't judge him poorly.

Back in Brooklyn Buck would talk to himself sometimes when he was real tired but mostly just gibberish. Here though, on the front lines, he spoke of violence that Steve hadn't even known lived in his soul. He had a right to it though, after all the torture he’d gone through at Azzano. Steve still hadn't gotten the full story out of him but he knew Buck always did have a thing about sparing Steve the worst of anything. It just hurt to hear Buck's once jovial tone now hardened and ragged.

They were out here doing the right thing, fighting the good fight. Taking out the bullies and the murderers but Steve caught himself looking at Buck, like right now, and wondering if it would have been better leaving the war to others. Buck had gotten a full ride home, honorable discharge with a purple heart on his lapel. He turned it down, told the brass that he didn't leave Europe until Steve left Europe. Peggy had told him all about it.

"Full dark in twenty. Two hours until we head out," Gabe whispered to the group while looking at his watch. He had the best night vision, always said it was because him and his cousins had a fondness to play hide and seek in the dark while growing up. They sat and waited.

 

"Move those limbs. Five minutes until we move," Gabe added as he started to quietly shuffle around their makeshift hiding spot. Steve checked both his guns and redid the straps on his shield holster. Buck was checking his rifle, jaw set and tense. Steve ran through the plan again in his head as they waited for Gabe's signal. Morita and Buck would split to cover both sides of the hall. He knew Buck was planning on climbing the tall ruins of what once was a building to the left of the hall and perching on top. Morita had already picked out a nice patch of bushes that a stone slab had fallen in front of. Gabe and Dugan were going in from the bottom floor around back while Falsworth and Dernier would be going in with Steve from the side, the side Buck was on.

A snap and a crackle echoed in the hideout before Gabe threw the flare out towards the middle of the square. Two more were thrown out right after, except one wasn't a flare. "Go!" Gabe stated as the small stick of dynamite went off. They could hear the shouts of soldiers coming out from their base and away from the small group. Quickly, the Howlies busted ass to move into position. Steve kept one eye on Buck as he deftly climbed the ruins, barely making a sound.

Getting into the hall was easy. Steve's group was almost to the second floor when a loud boom clapped through the area, with two more right behind it. Steve risked a moment to look out the window. The soldiers were firing at Morita in the bush, unable to land a shot but those blue pulse rays were deadly. They shifted and unseated the rubble near Morita a bit before he shot both in the head.

Gabe and Dugan joined Steve's group just in time to watch Baumgarten try to climb out his makeshift office window. They rushed him, Steve getting there first and grabbing at his shoulder. Baumgarten cried out. Someone shot him in the leg. Another shot rang out, causing Steve to duck, losing his hold on Baumgarten. The man kicked out while pulling his gun out of its holster. Steve instinctively raised his shield but the crack of the pulse ray went off but not in his direction. Baumgarten shot it outward, towards the rubble, Buck was perched on top of. Two shots and the pile collapsed. Ash and dust went flying in all direction as the two story mound folded in on itself.

"Buck!" Steve cried out as he grabbed Baumgarten hard by the neck and nearly slammed him through the wall before bashing him in the face with his shield. Baumgarten crumbled just as Steve dove out of the second story window. Buck had been in there, had been caught in the avalanche of wreckage.

 

 

Steve jerked up in bed, sweat pouring off of him. Vogogna, the town of Vogogna. What had been left of that building had collapsed on Buck. The rest of the Howlies had hogtied Baumgarten up and took care of the few stragglers while Steve had stupidly forgot all rhyme and reason as he started digging Buck out. He remember those few moments of panic as he thought the worst but Buck had been lucky, or more skilled than Steve had realized at the time. That was the first time Steve wasn't too sure they'd be leaving that war together alive.

 

 

 

 

The suit arrived the next morning like Nat said it would. Even had a smart ass note attached to it. Sam quickly set up a friend to watch his place and after waiting for her to come by to pick up the keys, they were off. They piled all they'd need into a small sedan Steve bought with cash from a student in the city and turned Sam's rental back in before heading north for Canada. The reports told of a Hydra base near Niagara Falls. It seemed to be the best place to start. As they drove up, Steve put in a call to Former Agent Hill asking for any new intel she came across. He knew there had to be people still around trying to salvage what S.H.I.E.L.D. was. It was a long shot, since it had been roughly a week and a half since their whole flying base nose-dived right into the Potomac river but knowing Hill the recovery would have started days ago. 

He was right. Hill had already amassed agents loyal to Fury, not to Hydra. There were very, very few but they were rebuilding as best as they could, keeping it as far from public eye as possible. She mentioned maybe it was time to get the Avengers back together. Steve agreed partially. That time would be soon but right now he had to find Bucky and Nat still had to figure things out on her end. Last Steve had heard of Thor was that he was back on Asgard for the time being. They were scattered at the moment but after all this settled, it wasn't a bad idea. 

The drive was just over eight hours. They changed drivers halfway through, stopping in a tiny little town called Clearfield, Pennsylvania. The population sign read something around six thousand. Driving through Sam was convinced half of that six thousand was buried in the giant cemetery that they passed coming into town. Steve just smiled softly before pointing out a small, mostly clean looking diner right off the main street. They stopped to eat, in and out in forty five minutes. A quick stop at a gas station later then they were back on the road, this time with Steve behind the wheel. They didn't talk much the last four hours of the trip, or really any of the trip. Both were mentally focused on the task at hand, going over any intel they knew of.

It wasn't until Steve and Sam pulled into a motel only a half mile away from the base that Hill finally called them back. Steve had expected to hear from her before now but he guessed things were in worse shambles than he thought. Also when he took a moment to check the news on his phone he'd realized that a whole legal storm had exploded about five hours earlier when the courts were going through some of the S.H.I.E.L.D. data. He was shocked she had even bothered to keep her word at all.

"The base you're heading to is supposedly still running. It's just been downsized repeatedly. So you'll probably find a handful of scientists but that should really be it. That's all we know about that but it does like at one point it was one of the facilities that housed the Winter Soldier."

"How'd you find this information?" Steve knew it was almost always a waste of time to ask but he couldn't help but be curious. He was a soldier, most of the time. Spying and intelligence gathering was a foreign language to him, but one he was always interested in.

"One of the Hydra agents we have locked down was stationed there a few years ago." Locked down. Different than locked up, Steve noted. "If you find anything useful, please feel free to pass it on."

"Understood." As they hung up, Steve realized he had been pacing the short length of the motel room, spreading his wings then retracting them over and over again as he went back and forth. They were sore from being cramped in a car and stiff from disuse. He really should take a fly before they went out. When Hill had called, Sam had gone out to grab them something for them to eat. He figured it was best to wait until his return to go out and fly. They were all on edge right now, randomly disappearing on your partner would be a dick move.

Steve sat down heavily on one of the two beds in the motel room. It finally hit him that this was the first time he had been alone since waking up in the hospital. Having another person around helped keep the thoughts away, thoughts of Buck hurt and lost alone out there. He knew his friend wasn't hiding scared like an injured woodland animal but- He honestly didn't know what to think. He knew Buck wasn't the same as he was back before the fall, before becoming the Winter Soldier. If he was, he'd be back at Steve's side right now. They wouldn't be in this shitty motel, taking the first steps in what now seemed like an endless rescue mission. So yes, he knew the Buck he was setting out to find, to bring home, wasn't the same Bucky as before. He just hoped, after reading that damned file, there was at least something of Buck still alive in this world. Not just his body.

Steve was sure it wasn't just- just anything. Buck was in there, his Buck. He remembered him, Steve was sure of it. A heavy sigh fell from Steve's lips when he realized his thoughts were running circular. He trailed his hands down his face, once, twice as if he could wipe his pain away. All those years ago Buck had fallen, wing broken and unable to fly. Steve knew he should have fallen too, should have tried to fly down and get him but that damned explosion. The train car rocked and his wing got jammed in the twisted metal under him as he reached out for Buck. Even without the tug at his back he wouldn't have reached.

He remembered fracturing his wing, trying to pull away, trying to fly after but he should have broken the damn limb.  Should have fallen just like Buck did, fallen after him.

The sudden thump of a car door slamming shut pulled him from his spiraling thoughts. Steve held his breath, drawing his wings close to his body. A few moments later he could hear Sam outside the door cursing and fumbling with the lock. A short laugh punched out of Steve's chest as he listened. The normalcy of fighting with a door. He let Sam struggle for a few more minutes before he took pity on him and unlocked the door, throwing it open with a smirk.

Sam stood on the other side with two large, very full bags of food and a deadpan expression marring his usually jovial features. Wordlessly, he shook his head before making his way into the room. Steve stepped aside with his usual shit-eating grin before closing the door behind his friend. Sam ignored him and  put the bags down on the tiny wobbly table next to the tiny equally wobbly T.V. stand. He started to unload one of the bags, it looked like it was from a local fast food place. The smell of grease hit Steve's nose when he moved closer.

"Damn room key sticks in the stupid lock," Sam mumbled as Steve tried to move around him to the food. Sam just slapped his hand away. "Get out of here. I pick first. I've seen you eat. If I turn my back the whole damn bag will be gone in a second. Now where's that mushroom burger?"

"You get more than one?"

"What'd'ya think I'm stupid?" A small smile lit up Steve's face as Sam showed him two wrapped burgers with a big M scrawled on the top. Steve took the second M marked burger from Sam before unwrapping it and taking a huge bite. As he did this he started stretching out his wings ever so slightly. Just a few bites then he'd go flying. "Is that like, your version of a happy dance?"

"Hm?"

"The wing shimmy." Steve finished his burger, only belatedly realizing he had been hungrier than he thought.

"Just stretching them. Do you mind if I go out and fly?"

"Want company? I brought EXO- 7. Figured we'd need it."

Steve just shook his head as he threw his wrapper in the nearest trash. "Naw, don't worry about it. Stay and eat while every thing's warm." Sam just nodded, understanding evident in his eyes.

"You do you then, boy," he stated calmly before attacking the mushroom-covered burger in his hand. Steve smiled, making a note to stop there on their way out of town. The burgers were good.

As he made his way out of the motel room, across the cracked and uneven parking lot towards the heavy woods surrounding them, Steve's mind fought against veering into territory best left alone. At least for now. He beat his wings in powerful, wide arcs as he pushed up, off the ground and catching the gentle wind.

 

Steve finally touched back down a few hours later. The night had come fast but thankfully the moon was half-full, giving him enough light to fly by. While he was up there, meandering his way lazily over the surrounding forest his head had been cleared, void even but the moment he came back down it all came back. He wished he could still get drunk, pass out before getting up the next to search for Buck and just keep doing that over and over and over again. The fly did tire him out some, he just hoped it was enough.

As quietly as he could, he let himself back into the dark motel room. Sam was on one of the beds reading from an electronic device. Steve thought it was called a B-Reader. He paused, that didn't sound right. Sam paid him no mind as he came in and grabbed up the food that was left. They sat in silence for a while, Sam reading and Steve slowly eating in the dark. He knew if he turned on a light he'd be up for hours yet again going over the small amount of files they had.

"Leave some of that for breakfast, man," Sam said softly as he put down his reader and threw Steve a look. There was a small pile of food wrappers by Steve's bent knee. He looked at his friend sheepishly before getting up and putting the rest back on the wobbly table near the door.

"Wasn't paying attention." He had a habit of that now. It had come from the serum. When he was smaller, before, he had very little appetite. Part of that was because of almost constant illnesses and part of that was because they often had so little money for food. His mom brought home what she could but it wasn't really enough to feed both of them. The Barnes would feed him plenty when he went over there but they were too nice. He would often use it as an excuse, really a lie. If his ma thought he'd already been stuffed to the gills by Mrs. Barnes she'd feel less guilty eating the last chunk of bread before her night shift. Buck used to see right through him every time he did it. He’d tell Mrs. Barnes he was still full from the lunch his ma packed him and turning around to tell his ma he was still full from the 'snack' Mrs. Barnes had made him. Not much Buck could do but didn't stop him from griping about it.

Now if he wasn't paying attention, he didn't stop eating. Both Mrs. Barnes and his Ma would be so proud. He wondered if Buck would be too. Sam's reader clicked off and the room was plunged into near darkness as Steve toed off his boots and made his way back to his bed. He laid his head down while shifting to accommodate his wings, shut his eyes and wished for sleep.

 

"You know you're light enough I could probably carry ya'" Buck grinned before poking Steve in the ribs. Steve just glared at him before moving further down the stoop and away from Buck. His sketch pad was laid out in front of him with two small pieces of charcoal laying across the page. He had gotten halfway through a sketch of a face he pulled from memory when he realized just how horrible it was. The semester was almost up and he had to turn in a portfolio. He was five pieces short due to the flu he got last month and the beating he took two months ago. His wing still hadn't recovered, feathers were still missing in large gaps.

His ma kept reminding him it's happened before and they grew back last time. That had been in second grade when Howard Mason thought it was funny to just grab a handful and pull. Now though, the wing had been hurt at the joint as well causing him to almost constantly keep it tucked close to him. Probably for the best, Buck had a bad habit of playing with the feathers when he got bored and the troublemaker right now was sitting on that side. It wasn't painful, just downright irritating if Steve was in a mood and today he was in that sort of mood. Didn't help that Buck kept saying stupid things and making it worse.

"Don't you even try it."

"What'd'ya do if I did?" Buck leaned in close, full grin on his lips and mischief in his eyes.

"I'd downright clock ya' and you know it." Steve sent him one last glare before picking up the pieces of charcoal and flipping to a clean page. Buck just shrugged before leaning back and going back to watching the characters pass them by.

"Reckon I could though," he said softly a few minutes later. This time his tone held no playfulness, no teasing. Just something else that Steve wasn't entirely sure of. "Think we could move this inside? Sun's becoming a killer and I'm hungry." He was right. The sun was getting close to midpoint and the rolling heat of almost summer was upon them. Inside wasn't all that much better, but it was shaded and Mrs. Barnes had gifted them an old Emerson electric fan a few weeks ago that she had found at a pawn shop. It had been extremely nice of her and it really did wonders for the apartment. Sitting in front of that with a bowl of ice sounded just about heavenly right now. Hell, Buck had even been able to finagle a few extra carrots at the market yesterday.

Quietly they moved inside and threw open all four windows in the whole apartment. Buck flipped on the fan and for a moment, nothing happened. Then he hit it. Slowly the blades started spinning, picking up speed until it wobbled on its uneven stand. Steve put a bowl of ice on a small, equally wobbly stool right in front. There hadn't been as much ice in the old ice box of theirs since it was also on it's last leg but still enough to fill one of their small bowls. Every little bit helped.

"Feel like we should make something to eat, Stevie but turning on that beast of a stove makes me sweat just thinking about it." Buck stood in front of the stove, with two cabinet doors open. They didn't have all that much food right now, or really ever, but Buck would think of something. The stagnant air of the once shut up apartment caused Steve to sweat, beads rolling down his chest and his back.  

"You can have the carrot," Steve offered up as he pulled his shirt out of his pants and started to unbutton it. The sound of the ice box opening and closing was followed by Buck laughing. He stuck his head around the divider wall holding up something wrapped in wax paper.

"We still have brisket!" Buck's eyes went to it, still smiling before he paused and his brow furrowed. The smile fell from his face as he looked back at Steve, "You told me you finished this up yesterday." Steve froze with his shirt half undone.

"There must have been more in there," he stated, aiming for casual before wiping a hand across his forehead. The air in the apartment was starting to move but with all four windows facing another building it would take a bit for the stuffy, over heated feel to disappear. 

"Looks to be the same as when I took some for lunch." Buck paused, stepping fully into the room and leaning against the wall. "You didn't eat yesterday, did you?" Steve knew there was no point in arguing so he just sighed and shrugged, waiting for the lecture that was sure to come. He just continued unbuttoning his shirt before pushing down his suspenders. He reached behind and slipped the small buttons on that held the slits on his back tight. As he pulled off his shirt, revealing his too big undershirt he realized no lecture seemed to be coming.

Steve threw his shirt onto one of the mismatched chairs in their small living room before turning to Buck and pulling off his undershirt. He stopped short with the undershirt in hand as his eyes landed on Buck, who was watching him. A strange heat rose and spread across his bare chest as Buck took a little too long to pull his gaze away. With hunched shoulders, Steve quickly went back into the kitchen.

"Buck? You okay?"

"Just heat flushed. I'm gonna make us some sandwiches with this." He paused and Steve could distinctly hear the rattle of a shaken inhale.

"Want me to do that instead?" Steve called out as he balled up his undershirt and used it to wipe off the sweat before standing a moment in front of the fan. "Maybe-"

"I got this, Stevie." Steve furrowed his brow in confusion. Why was Buck acting so off? He peered around the divider wall. Buck was just standing there with his dark wings tight against his body and the food spread before him. He usually took the heat a lot better than Steve and didn't look all that flushed right now. It was safe to say Steve was kind of lost.

A moment later Buck looked up, twice, and seemed to realize Steve was standing there watching him. He smiled softly as his posture relaxed, before turning and leaning back against the counter. Their lunch lay forgotten for the moment. He crossed his arms over his trim chest. The sunlight from the window splayed Buck in a kaleidoscope of colors, reflecting off the small window ornament Buck's sister had gotten for them last Christmas. It slowly shifted down Buck's strong form as the sun fully hit its zenith.

"Don't you have some drawings to finish?" he asked teasingly. His usual confidence was back in full. Whatever had been wrong earlier was now past and Steve wasn't sure how he felt about it. Buck was hiding something from him, he just knew it. He had started to notice these changes, these awkward uncharacteristic moment just after he had come home badly beaten this last March. If he got a breather after his portfolio was turned in, he had half a mind to sit his friend down and demand answers. Granted, he had all the intimidation of a newborn kitten but he knew Buck well enough. Sometimes that had a chance of getting some details.

With a sigh, Steve rolled his eyes and went into their split bedroom to put on a new undershirt, one that hadn't been ruined by sweat. He back out into the living room, grabbing his charcoal pieces and drawing pad before coming back into the kitchen. He hit Buck with the pad as he moved past him to their small kitchen table. It was one of the only things they owned that didn't wobble. That was just because of the perfectly broken brick Buck had shoved under the broken leg a month after they moved in together. 

They sat in silence as Buck went about making them both lunch and Steve, well, he stared out the window. He pushed his larger wing towards the window to enjoy the small breeze that came through. It was always relaxing, feeling it dance across the feathers. It was the closest he'd ever get to what it'd feel like to take flight. His eyes tracked the few birds in the sky that flew from building to building.

Two plates dropping down on the table startled him out of his thoughts. "Thought you had work to get done?" Buck asked pointedly before sliding the sandwich closer to Steve who just looked at it a moment before looking back to her art pad. As if he was deciding on which was more important. "Don't you start. Eat the damn sandwich or I'll hold ya' down and make ya'."

"You would too," Steve muttered under his breath as he grabbed up the sandwich and took a bite. It was good. Buck had cut the brisket real thick and layered it with cabbage and carrots. He had even spread a bit of mustard and cut up the last bit of onion and spread it out on top. It was good, real good. He took another bite and smiled his thanks over at Buck. It wasn't as if he didn't like eating, or that he wasn't even hungry. It just didn't feel right eating sometimes, not when he was ill and couldn't really stomach it. Or went they didn't have all that much money for food. Buck needed it more. He was the one that actually went out and worked all day, two jobs sometimes. All Steve did was go to sleep and get beat up when he opened his big mouth. He did that a lot actually.

"So," Buck stated with his left cheek puffed out with food. He chewed a bit and swallowed before continuing, "Whatcha have to draw for your porty folo? That’s what you said yesterday, yeah?”

“Portfolio.”

"Close enough. By the way, what is that?" Buck wasn't dumb by any standards but sometimes he had a habit of not listening all that closely.

"It's a folder of my art, samples. The teachers gather them up and send them out to help us land gigs with the newspapers and what not." Buck just nodded as he finished up his sandwich.

"What's the problem then?" Steve sighed softly, not sure how to really explain it before taking a few bites of his sandwich. He wasn't really sure  _ what _ the problem was. Everything he drew lately just didn't measure up. Buck paused in his eating and just watched his friend before scratching the back of his head. "Well, how many more drawings do you need?"

"Four," Steve replied softly as he took another bite of his sandwich.

"What do they have to be about?"

"Anything? It's to show what I can do. I have a bunch of buildings, a few landscapes, and one or two of the people down in the park. Some still life ones too." He paused and thought through his semester. Trying to remember what his teacher had tried to teach them but the only thing he was missing.

"Don't sound like you have too many people in there. Why not do a few faces or something?"

"Yeah, I guess that's what I'm missing, but I'd need someone to be okay with sitting still for a bit."

"Oh," Buck said softly as he finished off his sandwich. Steve had barely eaten half of his so he pushed the rest towards Buck who promptly pushed it back without even looking at it. "You could draw me. I'd be a great model." He threw Steve a toothy grin as he straightened up and relaxed his wings.

Steve couldn't help it. He rolled his eyes at his friend. "I said I need four. They can't all be of you."

"Sure they can. What's wrong with my face?"

"Buck, aren't you worried they'll think it off that I have all these drawings of you?"

"Don't care what they think and if you do just tell them your pest of a roommate keeps bugging you to draw him. Gotta have keepsakes for the lady friends." Steve just rolled his eyes and sent Buck a look, like he was being ridiculous. "Besides, it could be fun. Just make sure to get my good side."

Steve glared at him a moment before gathering up his supplies and leaving the kitchen with his wings hugged together to his body. Buck had a point, but it made Steve uncomfortable. He wasn't sure why and it wasn't as if he had never drawn his friend. He had, many times but maybe it was because he never showed them to anyone. Hell, Buck never even knew they existed. They were for Steve on nights when Buck didn't come home, when he went out with a girl and stayed out. He wasn't comfortable having other people see Buck how he saw him. Steve was so afraid they'd realize it all just by his drawings. So, that was why he was walking away and leaving Buck confused back in the kitchen.

"Steve."

"I can do this on my own."

"Damn it, Steve!"

 

Steve's eyes shot open. He was met with a slightly dirty off white textured ceiling and for a moment he forgot where he was but it came back. Six months tracking a man that did not want to be found. Two months on his own, Sam returning to his job at the VA when one of their other therapists had left on paternity leave. He sat up in bed and checked the bright red numbers of the clock behind him. Little past three in the morning. A soft curse fell from his lips as he raked his fingers through his hair before scrubbing them down his face. Most of the motels he stopped at had standard beds and for winged, god were they uncomfortable to sleep in. He will say whatever country he was currently in, they had much nicer motels than those in America. Not a roach in sight.

He stretched out his wings before running his fingers through the feathers. A few fell to the floor as he got up and made his way into the bathroom while a yawn cracked his jaw. Now was as good a time as any to get up and start the day. Steve felt that there really was no hope getting back to sleep. Since Sam left Steve had been pushing himself harder, moving locations two or three times before stopping. He wasn't even entirely sure where he was right now, some place in France. That was about as much as he gathered and the only reason he knew that was because he remembered seeing a flag as he dragged his ass into the hotel room.

Bleary and still mostly asleep, he brushed his teeth. Once his brain was mostly awake he started to question what he needed to accomplish today. He ran through possible options as he started to shower. The lukewarm water hit his back and Steve stopped for a moment, missing the amazing showers at Stark's tower. That also reminded him that Tony had called yesterday kind of late last night. He’d left a message since Steve was to busy breaking into an old locked up office building that had once belonged to a subset of Hydra. Nothing useful had come up.

He was following coordinates an informant had given him less than a week ago. A man matching Buck's description had been seen here a few weeks ago. Not for long, maybe a day or two but it was the only lead he had. He knew Buck was long gone, knew this was a lost cause but he had to do something. Hitting Hydra bases helped. Pausing his search to help the Avengers here and there helped but he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he wasn't out looking. Nat had told him a few times in the last six months that it was useless, wasting his time but she understood.

The water turned from passable lukewarm to colder than hell startling Steve causing him to smash him back against the tile wall. Cursing loudly he jumped from the shower, holding an aching wing close to himself. Quickly, while glaring at the chilled water he turned off the shower before flipping it the middle finger, realizing he had actually dented the wall a bit. With a heavy sigh, he made a mental note to pay for that before he checked out. Thankfully, he had already mostly finished washing up. He took the small motel towel and wiped off the rest of soap from his wings. He cursed again realizing the soap residue was going stick to his feathers and cause them to bunch awkwardly all day. 

"Fuck you too," Steve threw over his shoulder as he walked out of the bathroom, fluttering his wings behind him to dry them off a bit. He used another small motel towel to dry the rest of himself off as he played the voicemail Tony left him.

"Capiscle. JARVIS picked up your GPS in France. Nice place. You should actually do touristy stuff next time you're there." Tony paused for breath just about the time Steve muttered under his breath for the man to get on with it. "Anyways, you're wasting your time there. Got a strange encrypted message two hours ago that Tin Man was in Brooklyn. Fancy that. Not sure who sent this but it's through the HTSH network so it's one of our vetted informants." Steve's eyes went wide. The HTSH had been quiet for the last three months. He'd been going off of informants Nat knew. "Already went ahead and set up a plane ticket back for you and a place to sleep right in the heart of Brooklyn. It's all in your e-mail. Call me if you need anything else." There was another pause. "Oh! Almost forgot when you find him bring him to the Stark Tower. Okay? Pepper already has something set up for you two." Click. End of voicemail. 

A moment later his phone beeped again with an e-mail. Looks like he was flying out of a semi-nearby military base. If he was correct, the military base was a three hour drive away. He wasn't sure how Tony had set that up, especially with SHIELDs demise over half a year ago but he learned quickly not to question Tony on some things. This was one of them. He glanced once more at the time. Not even four am yet.

"No point in staying," Steve muttered as he quickly packed his one small bag, changed, and headed out.

 

"Welcome home, Captain," Pepper greeted him with a soft smile. She looked as lovely as ever, hair pulled back simply as she stood before him in casual clothes. Steve looked around, half expecting Tony to be milling about somewhere, distracted by something big and shiny. This military base had enough of that. "Don't worry, Steve, I kept Tony home."

"Thanks," Steve practically sighed out. Tony was a good man but Steve was a little to bone-tired at this moment to deal with him. Six months without finding anything was enough to wear a man down. He just hoped this newest tip off paid off. A yawn cracked his jaw as he thought about going out in a random direction again to looked for Buck.

"When was the last time you slept?"

"Any new information?" Steve asked, walking past Pepper only to stop a moment later when he realized she wasn't with him. He stopped about five feet from her and looked back. She stood there with her arms crossed and an eyebrow quirked, just staring at him. His back straightened as he put his hands in his pockets. She shifted and he broke. "Fine. Sorry, Pepper."

"Just answer the question."

Steve sighed before looking down at his watch. "Uh... Well, I woke up at about 3:15 in the morning... I can't remember the time difference."

Pepper swore under her breath before she started to walk, Steve easily but sluggishly falling into step beside her. "Six hour time difference. You've been awake almost twenty-four hours and let me guess you weren't asleep all the long."

"I can take it." Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Pepper shaking her head but dropping the subject anyways. "Has anything else come through?"

"Not really. Just a few more random sightings. Also this." She held out a photo, glossy and face down. Steve's brow furrowed as he slowly reached out to take it. The photo was probably taken by some kind of security camera. No place that Steve recognized but that didn't really mean much nowadays. There's very little of the Brooklyn he once knew. It was grainy but clear enough for Steve to know for sure. The picture had been taken while Buck. The man's hair was down and would have hide his face if the angle of the camera wasn't spot on. He was standing on a street with wings folded tight, looking like he was trying to blend in with the after dinner crowd as he ate a hot dog.

"Jeez, Buck. Hope you didn't buy that from a stand..." Steve wasn't an idiot he could figure out how bad those stands were, even without Tony gleefully telling him. "When was this taken?"

"Just about four hours ago. Got another one." He took the second picture and looked at it. This time Buck was leaning against a wall, hair pulled back, as he smoked a cigarette. His wings were spread out enough that they wouldn't cram while he lounged. Steve's first reaction was to cuss him out. Dumb bastard after all these years picked that habit back up but a moment later he stopped, just staring at the picture.

"Everything okay?" Pepper asked.

"He's smoking." Pepper kept quiet as Steve struggled to find his words. "He- I guess I was worried he wouldn't remember- Before Hydra. Just guess I was worried that he wouldn't be Buck but that stupid shit picked up that habit in the war and he's doing it again." He looked up just as Pepper smiled at him softly.

"If he wants to quit after everything, tell him the whole 'gum works' thing is a fat lie." That surprised a bark of laughter out of him.

"Noted." Steve paused. "I'm not sure how to feel about this," Steve mused in wonder as he turned in circles around the apartment. It was just about the same size of his one in DC but it was their old apartment, well part of it was. Modernized of course. He hadn't realized where he was from the street. So much had changed but it hit him when he walked down the hall, cleaner and nicer after all these years. Buck had found this place by word of mouth a few months after his mom died.

Now, he stood in the middle of the apartment where their old beat up couch sat and looked into the kitchen that was larger than before. Their old bedroom had been shortened to make room and the door was closed so he wasn't sure what really had been made of it. He turned to what used to be a wall, the one that separated them from the young Armenian couple, both had immigrated when they were young. He remembered at least once a week they walked an hour south to visit their living parents. Each had lost a parent in the genocide.

They had been so kind in spite of the horrors they had seen at such a young age. Every time he attempted to enlist he remembered their faces. Both of them treated him so well, never looked down on him in any way because of his frail health or his bright white wings. Now, it looked like both their apartments had been combined. The living room was bigger, opened up out onto a porch that had an amazing view of a park that used to be a building when they used to live here.

"Tony found out about a year ago where Captain America used to live. He bought both places."

"Both places?"

Pepper just shrugged before answering, "This apartment and the one where you grew up. Actually, where you grew up hadn't really been upgraded all that much. A small group had bought it not long after you disappeared and kept it how it was."

"What about this place?" Her face turned sour a moment before she shrugged again, this time not so convincing. Steve watched her a moment, confused as to what she'd be hiding about that but as he tried to figure it out the fatigue hit him. Before Steve even realized it, Pepper moved up beside him and took him by the arm to guide him across the expanded living room.

"The apartment has two bedrooms and a small study," she finished as she motioned backwards towards where the original bedroom was, the one they shared. "Tony made that into a sort of sun room. Figured it'd be a good idea since you are on the top floor. Between you and I he found a new formula for glass and I think he just wanted a guinea pig to test it, particularly one so pale." She smiled at him jokingly which he returned. With a wave she led him forward to one of the bedrooms on the other side. They moved past the floor to ceiling windows in the living room. That was a view he could never forget, not in a million years. Back then they only had one small window that faced this way, the others faced another building. He remembered them both pressed to it watching the city whenever they both had time. It was surprisingly relaxing watching everyone go about their lives. 

"It's yours." The words tore him gently from the past. He turned away from the view and looked at her standing in the open doorway to the first bedroom. "We didn't overly decorate it. Just the basics as you can see but-"

"You framed them..." Steve mused in wonder as he stepped into the room. On each wall pictures were hung. One was of him and the Howlies. They were all standing around, semi posing and smiling at the camera. A few were sitting on top of the tank they had taken from the Nazi's the day before while the rest were standing in front. In the bottom right corner of the picture was a smaller picture. He moved into peer at it. He remembered this. They took the larger picture for the papers back home. The smaller picture was taken a few minutes later when they all thought the camera was turned away from them. Gabe had Dugan in a headlock while Buck had been leaning on him, watching the two brawl. Steve was cracking up at the commentary that was spilling from Buck's lips. Buck had his wing around Steve, a habit from before the serum. Falsworth and Morita were hitting Gabe and Dugan with their hats, not to stop them but to keep them going. Dernier was on the opposite side of the two morons smoking a cigarette like nothing was going on. 

A bark of laughter forced it's way out of Steve as he took it all in. He had seen the larger picture, seen the papers it was put in but the smaller one. This was new to to him. He kept laughing, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes as he placed a gentle hand on the photo and moved on. There were a few of his old drawings framed and hung up. Some of their live before the war, some of Bucky, and some of the Howlies which definitely included Peggy and Howard. Another wall had a few pictures of his short time with the Avengers and the wall above his bed were a bunch of old time photos with just him and Buck in them.

"How did no one ever realize how I felt," Steve whispered softly, too soft for Pepper to hear from the doorway. Looking at those photos, some from the war, some from their childhood, he knew he looked at Buck special but he didn't think it was that clear as day.

"Beds already made up," Pepper stated softly breaking him from his thoughts. He blinked a moment before turning to look at her. "The bed. It's already made up. There's a full bath through that door and the closet is this one over here."

"T-Thanks, Pepper."

"You're welcome. I should be heading out," she said while looking down at a nice silver watch on her wrist.  "Go shower and get some rest. We'll keep you posted on if anything else comes through the network." Steve nodded his head, standing awkwardly not sure if he should hug her or extended a hand. She laughed softly before stepping forward and putting her hand on his. "Get some sleep." With that, she turned and left.

A moment later Steve heard the front door shut before he moved. He locked the door before heading back in and through to the shower. Just looking at it made him finally acknowledge the layers of grime that were caked onto his skin from traveling for so long. His wings fluttered, two feathers and a leaf fell out. A shower sounded damn nice.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Amazing Art By Aideryn](aideryn.tumblr.com)   
>  [Story by Me!](whispersofdelirum.tumblr.com)

He had been in Brooklyn two weeks, two goddamn weeks, and nothing. There was still chatter on the network from time to time and one more photo of Buck in the area had surfaced, but that was it.  Steve was going out of his mind, yet at the same time kind of glad for the excuse to stay in one place. He could sleep in and draw until the morning light was gone. A few times he had even taken a nice walk through the city, hoping to catch a glimpse of Buck but mostly to learn what happened when his city grew up. 

Though it did seem that every time he got it in his head to move on, try again somewhere else, another sighting of Bucky surfaced. Steve was lost on what to do. They were so close but New York was so new to both of them. He wondered how much longer until they crossed paths. He also wondered how much longer until he went out of his mind with boredom. 

 

Six weeks since he arrived in Brooklyn. Six weeks, more sightings of Bucky but in no way did Steve feel closer to finding him than before. Also it may have taken him far too long to realize, but he was pretty sure Buck was doing this on purpose. He wasn't sure why though. So, for six weeks he developed a routine. Nothing special, but in that time he lived like everyone else. It was actually a nice change of pace. Here and there he'd go to Central Park and fly for a bit. Every other morning he'd have breakfast and/or lunch at a cafe down the street from his apartment, one that used to be a cobblers shop. Their food was nice and their coffee was strong. He worked out, grocery shopped at the weekly market, and generally just caught up on, well- life, really. Overall it hasn't been a bad time, just kind of empty.

Sam had come up from DC a few times and visited, commenting on how this would do him some good. Tony took him out for lunch a time or two and even Pepper stopped in to say hi when she was in the area. Still, it was a little too quiet of a life for him. Even the Avengers network had been quiet. Since SHIELD fell the world had decided to give them a little bit of a rest. While he was on the move looking for Bucky it had been perfect timing but now that Buck was holding him in one spot he'd kill for a large disaster to distract him. Hell, he'd be happy with killer robots or whatever, like in Buck's old science fiction novels he loved so much.

There was actually a second hand bookstore on the way to the cafe. He had noticed it a few weeks ago on his way home. A smile tugged at his lips as he gathered his things together. He grabbed one of the sketchpads Bruce had sent him from California where he was currently helping out an old friend at Stanford University. The sketchpads were supposed to be all the rage in the artist communities out there. Bruce was a good man.

The weather outside was warm enough but storm clouds were hanging heavy over Brooklyn, threatening rain at any moment. He kept an eye on the sky as he made his way down the street, briefly stopping in the bookstore. He grabbed two books for himself and two old dime rack science fiction books for Buck, for if he ever found him. The owner was this amazingly nice older man who recognized him but just patted his back and thanked him for his service. That was it before helping find something new to read.

With the books wrapped up in a bag, Steve bid his goodbye before heading on over to the cafe. He hadn't spent much time in the bookshop but just enough for the clouds to darken even more. He hurried his step, pulling his hat lower over his head and tucking his wings into his body. The usually packed streets of New York were thinning as most took cover from the soon arriving storm.

A clap of thunder echoed overhead and Steve stopped for a moment thinking of Thor before heading into the cafe. Thankfully, it was only half full. The breakfast rush ended probably an hour before. A few of the servers were moving around taking orders with visibly weary limbs. He smiled at the few he had started to recognized before one motioned him to a clean table near the windows. He put his bags under the table before pulling out his sketch pad.

After a few minutes the waitress came back to take his order and as he waited he sketched. First, he sketched the people in the cafe then his gaze directed towards the window. The rain started just as his food came. She set a large tea latte down, then his food. He picked up one of the two bagel sandwiches carefully with one hand while he continued to sketch a young couple outside the window that had stopped and were watching the sky. He absentmindedly ate while sketching. It seemed like they were waiting for the rain to start instead of running from it. The taller of the girls had her partner's hand held tight but was swinging it back and forth while the other girl kept pointing at the darkening clouds. The first girl leaned in and kissed the other girl on the corner of the lips as she looked at her with such love. The other girl laughed before spinning around, hands still linked. He smiled softly for a moment as he watched them. He remembered when people like them had to hide. He remembered the punishment for trying to be yourself. 

"They seem happy." A quiet gruff voice pulled Steve out of his head and his eyes away from the window. Buck. Sitting across from him was Bucky, with long hair and more stubble along his jaw than Steve had ever seen. His blue were downcast looking at the sketchpad but Steve could tell they weren't as bright as before but not quite as dull as when Hydra had control of his body. 

"Buck," Steve whispered softly like a prayer. Buck looked up briefly, smiled before turning to look at the couple on the street just as a clap of thunder echoed and the clouds broke open. The two danced around each other, smiling and laughing. Just completely enjoying this singular moment in their lives with each other.

"We did that once or twice." Buck's voice sounded far away but Steve could relate. Looking at the man in front of him displaced something inside of him. Not in a bad way, more like the door that he used to protect something vulnerable inside of himself was currently wide open. "Had to stop when you got that bad cough in '29. Remember that?" Buck finally fully turned to him, giving Steve the whole of his attention with a shy smile gracing his lips. He looked out from behind long brown hair hesitantly, unsure of his welcome. His dark wings were held close to his back. The metal Hydra put on the one was covered up with cloth, not quite hiding it but enough to distract the eye if someone wasn't aware of what was under the cloth. Wasn't aware of the metal that held Buck's wing together, fixing it from where the metal of the train broke it open.

"I remember." Steve paused as he put his sandwich back on the plate. "Doctor Cordon didn't think I'd live past the week." A shadow past Buck's eyes as he nodded and leaned back. The chairs were made for regular people. The few winged chairs available in the cafe had been taken when he got there.

"That damn quack didn't know you," Buck huffed out as he placed both arms on the table. His long sleeves were pulled down, covering both hands. Only a few fingers poked through. Steve's eyes lingered momentarily on the metal digits before sweeping his eyes back up to Buck.

"You've been avoiding me," Steve blurted out. Buck just leaned back and shrugged. His eyes drifted back out the window. "Why?"

"Hard to explain." Steve stayed silent a moment and waited Buck out. "Fine, part was because you needed your damn sleep. Running around after me was killing you."

"Then why didn't you just show yourself when I first got here?" Steve paused before straightening up. "No it wasn't. I can take care of myself."

"You can't, buddy, and we both know it." Buck cracked a small smile, lessening the blow of his frankly truthful words. Steve just rolled his eyes before taking the remains of his sandwich up and ignoring the man before him before finishing it in just a few bites. He was also fighting the urge to grab Buck and drag him out of this cafe and back to his apartment. To lock him up in there and never let him out, to never lose him again. "You going to finish that?"

"No. Have it." Buck grinned as he pulled Steve's plate over and began to eat the other sandwich. It was a strange sight. A few times after the serum Buck had gotten hungry enough to steal food off his plate. Only after. Now it made sense, but before he was adamant that Steve finish everything in front of him. Sometimes when he made the mistake of eating too quickly Buck would feign being full early and give Steve the rest of his food, always saying he needed more meat on his bones. 

Now, Steve sat stock still, afraid if he moved to fast or talked that Bucky would disappear. Just vanish into thin air like he was nothing but an illusion all along, a trick of Steve's mind. He watched as Buck devoured the second bagel sandwich, even going so far as to grab Steve's tea and take a sip before continuing to munch away. His face was thinner than the last time Steve saw him, not gaunt just thinner.

"Come home," Steve blurted out after a moment of silence. Buck stilled at the words, last few bites of the sandwich halfway to his mouth and his flesh hand wrapped around Steve's tea. He watched Buck any sort of reaction, barely noticing Buck had already downed half of his tea, which he hadn't even taken one sip of. "It's only a few blocks down-

"I know," Buck bit out before leaning back and popping the last bites of food into his mouth. He watched Buck chew slowly before bringing the tea up.

"Will you quit that?" Steve asked, holding out his hand for his damn drink without thinking. He froze as he realized what he just did. A Cheshire like smile tugged at Buck's lips as he stared Steve dead in the eye before taking a long sip of the drink, nearly finishing it off before placing it back on the table. 

"All yours buddy." Steve picked up the drink and just held it a moment before taking a sip.

"You've been following me, huh?" Buck just shrugged. "So you know I've been staying in our old apartment."  Buck nodded. Steve leaned back, taking the tea with him as he watched his friend. There was so much happening inside of him, but the ball of emotion was too tangled and too loud that he wasn't sure what he was feeling. His limbs twitched, wanting to do something, anything, but he made sure he sat still and waited. Buck may have looked calm and collected at first glance but Steve knew him through and through. His shoulders weren't at the right angle to be relaxed. The fingers of his flesh hand were curled a fraction too much. The wings were still too close to his body, tendons tight. Steve also noticed his leg shook under the table, an old habit when he was waiting for something. It used to drive Steve crazy because it would shake their old off balanced kitchen table. His grey eyes swept the room a few times in their silence.

He frowned, realizing just how hard Buck was trying to be comfortable in a room full of strangers, in a location he wasn't familiar with. Quickly Steve pulled out his wallet and threw a few bills on the table, enough to cover the bill and a good tip. The food was gone and the tea was already in a paper to go cup. There was no real reason for them to stay, to keep Buck on edge. He slowly rose and began packing up his sketch pad with its half finished sketch. The girls were long gone anyways. Buck just watched him as he bent and picked up the bag of books.

"I'm going to head home. You can come if you want." He paused, raked his teeth across his bottom lip before adding, "It's your place too." He leaned down and placed the key to the apartment on the table before sliding it over. A small part of him hoped he didn't take the key purely because that was the only copy he had on him at the moment. If Buck just left with the key Steve would probably have to break in via the fire escape. He wasn't looking forward to that.

Buck's shoulder sagged another inch before he reached for the key, holding it up in front of his face. "You are a dumbass."

"What'd I do now?"

"It's the only damn key you have on you right now, isn't it?" Steve stayed quiet with pursed lips. "Don't give me that look, ya moron. Who the hell would carry both their keys and the spares around? It was a damn easy guess." Buck rose before shaking his head and pocketing the key. He continued to shake his head as he grabbed the bag of books from Steve and proceeded to exit the cafe. Steve followed and watched him thumb through his recent purchase, pulling out each book to read the blurbs before putting them back.

"Some of those are for you."

"Figured. That sciencey stuff was never your thing."

"It's called being right brained," Steve stated as if that meant anything. Nat had called him that when the Avengers had first became a thing and a few times after. She said it meant he was creative. He kept forgetting to look it up to make sure she wasn't pulling the wool over his eyes.

"You're half brained is right," Bucky mumbled as he had one of the science fiction books in his hand and was reading the back. Steve just rolled his eyes as they made their way back to the apartment.

 

"The elusive Buck-Bear has prowled onto the scene," Nat stated in a mock whisper as a sudden loud crash sounded from the TV. "Oh, crap! We missed a 'We've been hit, Captain!" She hit Steve before both wiggled in their seat. Nat wiggled without care while Steve wiggled a little as his cheeks went red. Buck paused halfway into the overstuffed armchair Pepper had gifted them last month, right after Buck had come home. It had quickly become Bucky's favorite spot in the living room. It was specifically made for winged.

"What the hell?" were the first words Buck had spoken in the three hours since Nat had arrived.

"Sopes?" Nat asked as she bent over and grabbed a plate of food from the coffee table, offering it to him. Buck quirked an eyebrow, looking at the food. "It's a tortilla with awesome piled on top."

"It's Mexican, but they're not really all that spicy," Steve ventured, remembering that Buck had never been a fan of spice. Buck reached out and grabbed the closest one hesitantly before taking a small bite. Nat had already put the plate down and leaned back, not really caring about Buck's reaction. Steve on the other hand watched for every tiny tick of his brows or tilt of his lips. 

A small smile graced Buck's lips as he started taking bigger and bigger bites. Steve forgot how much Buck loved food, good food- Non-spicy food. Buck went back for seconds, lips turned up. It was rare Buck took anything without asking, no matter if it was free-for-all or not. Since coming home, Buck had his good days and his bad. Steve was so happy today was a good day, a day that he could just enjoy company. For a moment, Steve was distracted as Buck licked a stray bit of sour cream off his upper lip. He licked his own lips in response. 

"Subtle as a sledgehammer to the face," Nat muttered before chuckling under her breath. His eyes darted to her then back to Buck who had started watching the show. He was licking up the last of the sopes in his hand. Some of the sour cream had spilled onto his metal fingers.

"Fuck..." Steve muttered as he shifted and turned fully back to the Captain giving a motivational speech to someone.

"You are fucking hopeless," Nat stated under her breath before she took a sip of the beer at her feet. "Hey, Buck-Bear." 

Buck rolled his eyes before tilting his head towards her. "What do you want, брат?"

"Ah, so you do remember."

"About an hour ago when you were swearing in Russian, yeah." Nat had spilled beer on her hoodie during their first 'We've been hit, Captain!' Actually, that was Steve's fault. He had by accidentally elbowed the bottle. 

"Remember what?" Steve piped in, completely confused. Nat just patted him on the arm.

"So, I keep trying to get Steve here to take me flying.” 

"What's the holdup?" Buck asked as he shifted, draping his wings over the side of the armchair before bringing one forward. Metal and flesh fingers raked through the feathers.

Steve sent him a glare before shrugging and grabbing a sopes. "Haven't gotten around to it." He sent Buck another look before taking a big bite. Nat caught Steve's look and burst out laughing, clapping her hands as she leaned into his shoulder. He shook his head and tried to shrug her off. She just shifted and made herself comfortable against his chest. Something she did often right before she was going to be a little shit. Steve's wings tensed as he waited for it.

"Then get to it, Stevie." Steve looked back up to Buck, thrown off by the sudden hard edge of his tone. "Don't want to keep a dame waiting."

"Oh, that's interesting," Nat said softly before taking a sip of her beer. Steve would have missed it if she hadn't practically climbed in his lap. Also, he was still waiting for something. Last time she had plucked a feather and tried to stick it in his ear. All because he had eaten the last spicy tuna roll. "What if I was asking you for that flight, Buck-Bear?"

"Keep calling me that and I might accidentally drop you." Steve tensed at the thought, not of Buck dropping Nat. He wouldn't but of them going off like that. He knew why it didn't sit well with him. Didn't take a genius to figure out. Nat was a gorgeous woman and Buck had always done well with dames, especially gorgeous dames. Just like before the war. Not even all those years as Hydra's puppet could diminish Buck's charm. Maybe it was for the best though. Nat was a great gal, Steve knew Buck's heart would be safe with her even if his own wasn't.

"Jesus, you both are down right morons," she exclaimed before leaning over and putting Star Trek on pause. Quickly, she drained the last of her beer, ignoring the two very confused super soldiers.

"Why are we morons?" Buck asked as he took another sopes.

"Don't eat them all. We also have tacos too." She pointed at the other plate before getting up and moving to the kitchen. "Also we still have three more episodes to watch before we're done with TOS."

"Okay?" Steve asked, unsure.

"We're out of beer. Who wants to do a beer run?" Her eyes landed on Buck's pointedly. He pointedly avoided her gaze and grabbed a taco. Buck wasn't really keen on just leaving the apartment anymore. He sometimes went with Steve to the bookstore or the cafe but that was about it. No missions had come up since SHIELD fell, there was no reason for them to really leave the area. Now that he thought about it, maybe he should start nudging Buck out more. Maybe he could visit Nat. A pang in his chest distracted him from present company.

"Steve, can you make a beer run?"

"Why me?" Steve asked a little too harshly, afraid to leave the two alone. Fuck, he was better than this. All he wanted was for Buck to heal and be happy. Steve realized who held his heart a long time ago, didn’t change the fact that Buck should find happiness even if it was going to be with someone else . He was always well aware of the truth and that sad truth was that Buck would never love him back.

"Doesn't look like we're getting Buck-Bear out of that chair anytime soon."

"Pick another nickname, damn it," Buck growled halfheartedly before shoving half a taco into his mouth.

"But beer doesn't do anything to me," Steve argued weakly.

"Even more reason for you to be the one to go out." She paused and leaned against the frig. "Stop pouting. It's literally a block and a half down. You could jog there and back, fifteen minutes tops."

Fifteen minutes. He actually made sure that's all it took. A twelve pack under one arm, with a bag of liquor hanging from his wrist he silently unlocked his front door, scared of what he was to find. On the way there and back a million painful outcomes crossed his mind. Steve kept having to remind himself that all he wanted was for Buck to be happy. It might just take a while. Hell, even if it didn't turn out to be Nat then another dame was going to come around that was going to turn Buck's head. Maybe Steve would find someone else but he doubted it. He knew he had been damned lucky to fall in love the two times he had, first with Buck then with Peg. He loved both deeply and separately. 

When he opened the door he wasn't expecting Buck to be downright glaring at Nat, who looked as pleased as the cat that got the canary. "Er... What'd I miss?"

"Buck, wanna answer that? Got something to confess to Steve here?" Buck's glare intensified as each finger of each hand dug into the armrests. 

"We're starting the show over." Nat made a sign of disgust in the back of her throat before rolling her eyes.

"Seriously? Not even close, dude," stated Nat just as Steve exclaimed, "But we were almost done!"

 

 

A week later Nat texted him,  _ "Wake up, old man. Times are a-changing." _

_ "What the fuck?" _ he texted back, completely confused. Last time he talked to her was a few days ago. She was on an Avengers mission in Italy. He wasn't sure on the details but it had something to do with information extraction. Her specialty. The text was just to ask Steve how much pasta and wine he wanted her to smuggle out. The answer had been all of it.

His's phone sat silent for several moments. 'Times are a-changing'? What the hell was that suppose to mean? Steve was well aware that times were changing. Sometimes not as fast as he'd want, like those damn anti-vax people. Buck had found an article earlier in the day about another group of morons proclaiming their hatred for vaccinations, the same vaccinations that keep deadly diseases from killing- and there go his wings tensing. They had pulled tight against his body.

Steve needed to think about something else before he got too angry. Also because he still needed to finish washing the dishes and if he did that angry then he'd break one... Again. He hadn't figured out the dishwasher yet. Buck had. Buck also didn't know that Steve and the dishwasher weren't friends so while Buck was still asleep, Steve was going to wash and dry said dishes by hand before he woke up.

A few minutes later, with half the dishes washed and drying his phone beeped twice. He grabbed the nearest dish towel and dried his hands before checking the screen. Two texts from Nat.

_ "You really need to tell Barnes you're over the moon for him." _ And _ "Random I know but I just watched two girls share a milkshake. Think it was their first date. There was tentative hand-holding. My dead heart actually grew a size or two. That could be you and Buck-Bear" _

"Shit," Steve cursed out as he quickly typed a response back, only to delete it and try again. It took him four tries to finally text, _ "Don't know what you're talking about." _

_ "Wuss. You two need to get your heads out of your asses and make with the kissy face." _ This text was then followed by a line of kissy face emojis. He just sent her back the emoji of the middle finger while trying to remember how to breathe. She was right though, times were changing but he grew up in the past, in a world where what he was wasn't right. Men weren't supposed to fall in love with men, especially not straight men- Like Buck. He glared at his phone, mind running a mile a minute as he went back to washing the dishes.

"Steve, why the hell are you hand washing the dishes when the dishwasher is working?"

 

 

Steve forgot how slow Brooklyn turned from summer to autumn. It was mid-October and the leaves on the few trees in sight were just starting to turn. The rising sun danced off of them as he watched with a mug of coffee in one hand and a doughnut in the other. The doughnut was a touch stale, Buck had bought them the day before. He couldn't remember if he liked them or not. 

"Is that the last doughnut?" Bucky asked from behind him. His footsteps were silent but Steve had seen him approach in the glass. He turned around with a smirk and waved the doughnut in the wave, once, twice, before shoving the rest into his mouth. "Oh fucking course," Bucky muttered, exasperated before shaking his head and heading into the kitchen, following his nose to the coffee.

They stayed in silence as Steve chewed, with cheeks bulged out, and Buck made up a large mug of coffee. No cream, two sugars. As Steve finished Buck came back around and sat next to him on the floor, steaming mug held in his metal hand.

"You turned off the heat sensors, huh?" Buck just turned to him and smirked before saluting with his coffee. He looked down at his own hand where he had mildly burned his palm only twenty minutes earlier. He had been half asleep and hadn't registered his own mug burning his skin until he had been sitting for a few moments watching the early morning traffic. He wished he could say it was some awesome side effect of the serum but he used to do that all the time back before the war. 

Buck's dark wings pushed against his own white wings as they shifted a bit and got comfortable again with knees touching. Minutes past as they both watched the sun crest the horizon and the buildings. Steve got lost in the way the light reflected off the glass structures. His eyes slowly scanned the landscape. Maybe when he was more awake he'd grab his new sketchpad. Steve watched Buck for a moment out of the corner of his eye. Maybe if Buck started one of the new books he got last week Steve would sneak a sketch of him, just like before when this apartment was half the size.

"I remembered something," Buck stated softly, moving his mug from one hand to the other. He placed his hand on Steve's knee, fingertips drawing abstract patterns. Steve turned to him with brows raised and interest lighting up his eyes. Last time Buck recovered a memory it was about his mother, Winifred Barnes, about how she used take him and his sister to the pictures every Sunday when they were growing up. Sometimes Steve would tag along when he had the money. They had gone to visit her grave later that day. It had been so bittersweet.

"Yeah?" Steve hesitantly placed his hand over Buck's, feeling the smooth metal under his palm. His heart beat a touch faster at the contact. They touched, before and after, they touched but this felt different. It wasn't a pat on the back, an arm over the shoulders. It was more intimate. Buck's fingers stopped moving.

"I remember being in love." Steve's heart felt heavy in his chest. He knew Bucky had stepped out with a handful of girls in their younger years but none seemed serious. Did he misjudge? Was Buck remembering a girl who stole his heart that was probably six feet under by now?  Would Buck have to mourn the person he loved just like Steve did after the train? "Steve?" Buck asked weakly as he moved his hand out from under Steve's, causing panic to rise in Steve's chest only for a moment. The metal digits trailed up to his hips, resting there as Buck turned to look at him.

"What- Um..." Steve tried, voice failing as he wings pulled in tight. "What was her name?" This was going to hurt. Steve could feel his heart already cracking down the middle, but it was a pain he was used to. He made his peace when they were still in their teens that he wasn't for Buck.

"Jesus... I remembered something else," Buck stated while shaking his head. Steve made a sound in the back of his throat, letting Buck know he was confused over the sudden change but still listening. "I remembered how dumb you are."

Steve's brow fell as he looked at Buck frankly. "Guess you also remembered how much of a jerk you can be."

"Please, I remembered that ages ago. Why do you think I keep eating the all your specialty caramels."

"Because you're an asshole and those are a pain in the ass to get if you don't live in the Boston area." Steve put down his mostly empty mug before punching Buck in the leg, not hard but enough to make the man jolt. Buck threw his head back and started to laugh. He put his own mug down before turning to Steve with a grin.

"Yeah and because you're so fucking gorgeous when you're angry."

"What-" Buck cut him off by grabbing his shoulder and pulling him in. His metal hand went to the back of Steve's head gently pulling him in. Steve's eyes widened in surprise as Buck gently pressed their lips together.

It took a moment, just long enough for Buck to tense and start to withdraw, before Steve reacted. Both hands came up, one to the front of Bucky's sleep shirt and the other at his ribs, pulling him in. Steve pushed forward, deepening the kiss as Buck started to slowly lean back. Both shifted as they fell to the floor, Buck's hands went to Steve's hips, gripping tight as they moved against one another. Steve shifted, one hand to the ground to keep him up as he moved to hover over Buck, the other hand in his long brown hair.

 

"I love you too," Steve finally whispered as they lay panting on the living room floor. Both sleep shirts had been discarded earlier. Now they lay sprawled out, wings out and tangled as they caught their breath. Steve ran his tongue along his lips, feeling how swollen they were. A quick glance over to Buck had Steve smiling proudly. Buck's lips matched his own.

“Just figured out I meant you, huh punk?" Steve shook his head as he swatted at Buck with the wing currently not being laid on. He prodded Buck who arched his back just enough for him to free his other wing. They remained relaxed as he shifted and draped himself over Buck's chest.

"Nat's texts make so much sense now..." Buck huffed out a laugh as he wrapped his arm around Steve, fingers gently running through blonde hair.

"She been bugging you too? I figured out how to block her number and she sent me a damn telegram last week while you were down in DC with Sam."  Of fucking course, Nat was one step ahead of both of them, on even this.

 

First snowfall of the season and it was on Halloween. Global warming wasn't real his ass. New York got snow but never this early and never this much. Buck was sitting on the floor with his back against a hassock, wings spread out on either side of him. His metal arm was laying atop a heat vent while he held a new book in his other hand. The lights were dimmed enough that Steve was able to clearly see the slowly dancing snowflakes behind him. It was a sight to see, Buck with his hair falling in his face in nothing but black yoga pants and a dark gray hoodie. He looked so beautiful and happy. The corners of his mouth kept tugging upward every few moments soon followed by either a soft chuckle or a bark of a laugh, shocked out of him by whatever was on the page.

Steve brought his phone up and silently took a few pictures. Just a few to go with all the rest he'd taken of Buck since his return home. Single candid shots turned into pictures of the two of them wrapped around each other and completely happy. There were a few Nat had taken during Star Trek nights where they exchanged kisses more than watched the show. There were not enough suitable words in the English language to describe how happy and content Steve was right now. They had a home again, with each other, in Brooklyn, with friends.

"Good book?" Steve asked softly as he pulled his sketchpad out from under the couch. He remembered Buck moving it there earlier in the day, unhappy that Steve wasn't giving him enough attention.

"Mhmm." Buck paused, turning the page. "You'd like it." His gray eyes turned to Steve, crinkled at the edges as he smiled softly before turning back to the book.

"Add it to the list." He found his pencil from earlier and began to sketch. Soft music playing from their TV blended with the crackle of their fireplace, a feature Steve had missed for the first three months he had lived here. It sat between the two bedroom doors, one now turned to the guest room. The TV sat over it on a mantel but when not in use the fireplace had a slider that hid it, blending it into the wall. Buck had made fun of him for days but now they had three thick logs burning away.

The first time they used the fireplace Buck sat in front of it for hours before turning to him with a soft look on his face and said, "I remember the winter you almost died."

"Which one?" he had asked, but he was fairly sure he knew which one.

"Your Ma had no money for logs for the stove so she sent you to stay with us while she kept sleeping over at the hospital. We were what? Sixteen? First real argument we ever had... And it damn near killed you." Steve had watched as a wave of guilt shutter across Buck's face. He had remembered that look, he had woken up from a fevered sleep to see that look but it wasn't Buck's fault. They had argued about something stupid, even he couldn't remember what about but Buck had told in a way told him he was through. So Steve went home, to a freezing apartment and stayed there stubbornly as he slowly faded into a fevered sleep. It had taken Buck two days to realize where he was. Steve hadn’t remembered much after that but he woke up at the Barnes place with Buck refusing to let go of his hand.

That was one memory he wished Buck had never remembered. It wasn't Buck's fault. Steve was more to blame. He could have snuck into the hospital and stayed with his ma. He had a point to make and that point nearly killed him. 

Steve forced himself to think of other things as he sketched Buck with his arm on the vent because the metal arm could get downright cold in the winter if they weren't paying attention. Steve had found that out the hard way the first night they shared a bed. Soon though, his mind blanked as he got lost in his work.

 

"The snow stopped," Buck said softly as he put his book down and peered out the window. Steve put his pad away and moved closer. It was just after one in the morning and for the city that never sleeps it sure was moving lethargically right now. Only a few cars were on the road and even fewer people were wading through the snow yet to be removed from the sidewalks.

"Looks like it," Steve replied as he leaned in for a kiss. Buck happily gave one up. He stealthily slipped Buck's bookmark into his book before taking it from him, placing it on the hassock behind him. "Gorgeous out there, huh?"

"Mmmm." Buck turned to Steve, lips moving to his throat as hands gently settled on his hips. Steve smiled as he ran his fingers through Buck's hair. His wings had gone lax, falling around him.

"We haven't flown together since 1944." He paused. "Whatcha think?"

Buck pulled away, looked out at the gorgeous snow-covered cityscape before turning back. "Think the view from the Brooklyn Bridge would be something to check out?"

"Sounds like a plan."

Buck smiled before grabbing Steve by the front of his shirt and pulling him in for a deep and heavy kiss. "Afterwards, straight to bed?" A small, impish grin tugged at his lips.

"Yes," Steve breathed out before kissing him once more. 

Not all of their days were good days with falling snow and a warm fire to enjoy themselves beside. Not all days were filled with creativity and good books. Some days Buck remembered his time as the Winter Soldier. Steve would find him kneeling before the giant windows in their living room, crying. There were times that if Steve was quiet he could hear Buck's mantra asking for forgiveness. Other times Buck talked to Howard. Sometimes he asked Howard for forgiveness and other times he just talked to him, letting him know what stupid thing Tony had done recently or what new tech had reached the market.

It was late spring by the time Buck was comfortable around Tony. Guilt ate him up inside any time Buck's eyes landed on Howard's son. In the beginning, Tony had been stiff around him as well, mostly sending Pepper over in his stead. Steve understood. They had talked at length about it all the first time Steve's leads on Buck had taken him back to New York. He had found the file with Howard's assassination a month prior at a base in Mexico. It was only fair to let Tony see it, even if it did result in Tony locking himself in his lab for three hours destroying everything he could. No matter how angry Tony got he knew Buck didn't kill them by choice. Or at least Steve thinks that's what Tony kept telling himself at the time.

Tony dug into records while Steve hit the road once more. A few files were sent his way that he knew had changed Tony's view completely, but Buck never believed him. Steve did. Steve believed that Tony wholeheartedly thought that Buck was just as much a victim of Hydra as his parents. Buck's guilt blinded him, but they were still healing, still getting there. Where ever there was.

Tonight Buck was silent, head bowed and knuckles resting against the floor. 

Slowly, making sure to make some sound, Steve walked around until he sat on the hassock with his back to the windows. Buck slowly tilted his head up, revealing tears falling from his eyes. He moved forwards as Steve brought him in close, arms wrapped around him. They stayed like that a moment, Buck pressed as tight to his chest as he could be before he leaned back slightly. His metal hand rose, fingers lightly touching Steve's cheek as tears kept falling from his eyes.

"I love you. More than I can say, Buck. I love you," Steve whispered as he watched Buck nod in understanding. His breath hitched as the tears renewed. Steve drew back and kissed each eyelid before resting his forehead against Buckys. "What do you need?" The words came out soft and airy as Steve tightened his grip around Buck's shoulders.

"This, just this." Steve smiled softly as he brought his wings around to wrap Buck completely, wings and all. One hand rests on the metal patch on the wing bone. They were both broken in different ways but unlike Steve, Buck had been put back together by unloving hands. Steve had been put back together by time, a kinder fixer this time. Buck now had that time and Steve's loving hands.

**Author's Note:**

> First of three chapters! Here we go! My last RBB fic of this year. It's been hella fun working on both fics, this and Exposure to the Modern Age. Met some amazing people through it all including a now wicked dear friend. <3 Les! Also thanks for betaing it all for me. You're awesome
> 
> Also I'm bad at tagging and if you think anything else needs to be tagged let me know.


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